


Back and forth

by ForcedRedacted



Series: Men & little Monsters [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: !ping, AU, Book club beta we die in good company, F/M, Multi, Part 2 suckers, Pong., Spoilers, physically insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2020-11-15 10:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 71
Words: 169,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForcedRedacted/pseuds/ForcedRedacted
Summary: Continuation of Joker & Thief.People liked the first one, so... Guess I have to write a second one now





	1. Le bien qui fait mal

**Author's Note:**

> I miss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll let them sit for a bit, says I. I'll give them a cliffhanger and the start of the next story will be all the sweeter for it, says I.
> 
> _No ping pong for you_, says Sorensen. 
> 
> Big oof, says I, and begin to write anew I do.

Urianger sat quietly in his rooms in Azys Lla. A cold cup of tea sat in front of him, untouched as he stared blankly at the table. He had barely touched food or drink in the two weeks since the Thirteenth. Instead, he sat and _thought._

The Secrets of the Enforcers. There were a few of them. Minor mimicry of the relevant title holder's granted abilities, though not enough to warrant a Burden. The ability to determine where the relevant title holder's position was at any given time, and their overall health. He _knew_ Emet-Selch was out there, still alive, but none of the Ascians had as of yet been able to find them. Them, because the Warrior had to be with him. No other answer was acceptable. Unfortunately, his vague answer of 'somewhere that way' simply wasn't _enough_ to do more than point them out into the stars. 

The Architect was badly hurt. Emet-Selch was slowly getting better. No, now he was slowly getting worse, but nothing critical. He had leveled out. He was starting to get _better_ again. 

The elezen rested his elbows against the table, pressed his hands against his face and sighed in frustration.

_("Of course my friend is still alive. It would take far more than that to kill her, now wouldn't it." Zenos grinned wolfishly, unconcerned and unbothered and ignoring the withering glare that Estinien leveled at his back. "Oh, but I have had my fun for the day. Crellbron! Return me to Garlemald. I have a promise to keep to the Savage.")_

But there was no confirmation. Which meant that for one reason or another, Emet-Selch was unable or unwilling to return. Which meant the Ascians continued to take turns looking for them, save for Mitron. The Traveler seemed to have made it his personal mission to find both of them, and had left after the briefest of rests to search the stars. Lahabrea had taken the fact that the Architect was alive in stride and turned his focus towards making sure everyone was rested and stuck to the buddy system if they did decide to go out and search. Elidibus had managed a faint smile and shut himself away in his rooms to work out the latest batch of tempring, with Igeyorhm keeping watch. 

He thought back to the last thing he had said to her. The Warrior's ability to cut through aether and thusly destroy spells had been his backup plan should the archway have failed to bend to the experimental way he had pulled at the structural integrity of it. It hadn't been needed, of course, but... 

But what if Emet-Selch was absent because he was _done_ with the world? What if something had happened to her, to Priscilla that had turned out to be permanent? What if his distance was enforced by grief? 

The astrologian folded his arms, resting his forehead atop them and grimaced to himself. He had traveled back to the First to beg Feo Ul to try and use their connection to the Warrior to help them at least discern if she was alive or not, and the King had faltered for a moment. The connection was there, but it wasn't. It was insubstantial, tenuous, absent and present all at once. These findings had been brought to the Exarch, who had attempted to scry with little and less luck than the fae. 

_("She's still **out** there. Sodding useless-" Estinien paced like a caged animal, agitated and frustrated, baring his teeth. "I'm going to Hraesvelgr. If there's anything that bloody feathered bastard is good for, it's knowing strange things."_

_And so he had left.)_

G'raha had thought perhaps the nature of the rift itself was causing the problem. It wasn't _easy_ to cross, after all. Maybe she had gotten separated from Emet-Selch and the reason the Architect hadn't turned up yet was that he was out there himself, searching for her. It certainly seemed like something he would do. In the meantime, the Tia would continue to search from the Crystal Tower. Which left Urianger to sit, stare at the stars and pull cards as he tried to narrow down something of a search grid with divination. 

It didn't work. All the astrologians in the world could have pooled their efforts and would probably have had the same luck as he did. Kel'louch and the Devourer both didn't have anything that might have helped, considering one was still fine-tuning a longer lasting defensive solution and the latter was a shapeshifter and basically nothing more. The list of powerful people who could plausibly help was a short one, and he leaned back in the chair, raking his hands back through his hair as he turned the matter over in his mind to see if there was an angle he had yet to approach it at. 

There wasn't one, that he could tell. He stared at the ceiling, and sighed. 

* * *

Mitron had rarely ever thrown himself so wholly into his work. 

The youngest of the current Convocation members, he had completed his training perhaps a century and a half before Zodiark had been summoned, which meant that there wasn't a whole lot of time for him to properly acclimatize to his station before everything went sideways. Still, he had to try. He had planted one of his swords into the hull of Azys Lla to act as an anchor and return point, and then threw himself out between the stars. Time was an interesting concept out in the rift, but he was the Traveler. 

If anybody could cover any concept of _ground_, it would be him. And he did. He flit to each of the shards and ran along paths known and unknown. He found clusters of voidsent, avoided them, marked their locations and resumed his search. He would _not_ give up. It took him two weeks to run out of ground, before he set himself among the stars once more to re-evaluate his options. He was never out of them.

Besides, he had a _Secret_. 

He couldn't go straight to her, considering he didn't know where she was, but the best way to get somewhere that couldn't be found was to get good and _lost_. There was an element of random chance involved, and for all that there were the vague suggestions of pre-determined paths through the space in between he had a feeling that she wouldn't be on one of them. He made sure he had enough distance from the Source, reached behind him to the vague suggestion of a wheel, and gave it a _spin_-

_-A pink lake, thick with salt that could make even the worst swimmer bouyant-_

_-A crystal city built into the underside of a cliff, lit from below by the rivers of magma that was the only illumination in the depths of the caverns beneath it all-_

_-A sea of pale blue, light-aspected aether through which something drifted, wrapped up in it's own wings and nursing wounds that had rent through to the soul-_

Mitron tapped a green sword against the concept of a compass behind him, stilling it abruptly. He had a _heading_. The sword vanished, and he oriented himself appropriately so that he could chart his course.

* * *

Emet-Selch drifted almost lazily, proverbially licking his wounds as he idly continued to fix the vessel that had barely survived. It was by and large fixed, but he was trying to determine if he should leave the massive twisted knots of scars across the back from where his _extra appendages_ had torn themselves free. He had it propped up on his chest, and was idly turning it this way and that as he studied it to try and decide. He had _time_, after all. It wasn't like he was inclined to go anywhere yet. 

_Yet_. 

Soon, though...

"Architect!" 

**<Traveler.>**

"I found you! Everyone was so worried-" Mitron paused as he took stock of Emet-Selch, frowning and drifting closer to inspect the way one wing was loaded with dull purple-tinted crystal. There were patches across his torso, and the central mask had nearly cracked in half. "Those... Look like they hurt."

**<'Tis likely because they** **do.>**

The Solus vessel was turned to hang upside down in the grasp of one large, taloned hand as more humanoid arms folded in thought. No he decided. While he might accept _some_ physical scars, when _she_ ran her nails down across his back they would simply catch terribly. Best to smooth them out. Reaching forward, he started to trace his fingers along the twisted knots of puckered scar tissue, easing them away. The Traveler watched for a moment, before his frown deepened. 

"Are... Are you going to come back?"

**<Eventually. I _do_ need to heal, after all.>**

"And... Eschaton?"

**<Oh for the love of... Of _course_ with my wife. Why do you think I'm still _out_ here? Aside from the veritable _mountain_ of souls I had to ferry to the Mothercrystal -_after_ Zodiark essentially exploded in our faces, I might add- she was bitten worse than I was. Hydaelyn is doing what she can to set to rights what was damaged.>**

Hades would have rolled his eyes if he could, instead he settled for heaving an exaggerated sigh and tucking a hand against the center of the cracked mask that sheltered his core. A larger, clawed appendage waved out from within the shelter of his wings before he gestured towards the thicker, brighter section. 

**<While you linger, however. See how far you get. Injured as I am, I only get the briefest of updates before I needs must retreat. Bad enough that I practically _burned_ myself delivering those I needed to. All I have to go on is the little bit of herself that she gave me. Perhaps you will fare better.>**

Mitron paused, before nodding and turning to make his way though to the heart of the light.

* * *

"I have... A -lot- of regrets." 

The Warrior drifted idly, more or less lost in the crystal facets that contained her. She _hurt_ when she thought about moving, for all that she had the foggy notion that she was on some level fine. Nothing there spoke to her. Nothing answered her, though she was certain that there was _something_ there. Time was a notion that pulled at her, as if it was something that was supposed to exist but didn't if she ignored it enough. Which she tried to. Otherwise, she talked to herself out of the sheer _boredom_ that plagued her. 

She didn't know what had happened. The last thing she clearly remembered that had anything to do with a 'timeline' was a flash of black-red and a feeling of _breaking_ that had been worse than the Lightwardens. Which... When had that happened? How long after Amaurot? Which Amaurot, though. Before the sundering? After the sundering? 

What did a pomegranate taste like? 

She both knew, and did not. She could taste it, yet when she tried to link the two things utterly failed to. The closest thing she could liken it to was _raspberry_, but that wasn't right. Mmm, _food_. She clearly hadn't been wherever she was for very long. She would have been hungry. And she wasn't. Wasn't she, though? Twelve, but things were confusing. She regretted forgetting.

The only thing she had that let her know for sure that time was passing was the chunk of _precious_ that was against her forearm. It warmed from time to time, and seemed to do nothing else. She wasn't sure what, exactly, it was but it certainly _seemed_ important. The thought of losing it or it getting hurt (damaged? Wouldn't the right word be damaged? No, that didn't have the proper feel to it. Hurt.) made her want to _move_ in the most violent of ways. 

Movement. A concept that tingled through her. Something she knew for a fact she should have been able to do, but couldn't. Not locked in crystal as she was. Attempts to move simply resulted in nothing happening, as if the commands never even left the confines of her head. 

Something shifted within her, and pain radiated outwards from some nameless place before she roused, oblivious to what had just occurred. 

"I have... A -lot- of regrets."

* * *

"I couldn't get close enough." Mitron moped as he floated near the Architect, watching the other ever so carefully pour his aether and self back into his vessel. "Wow, you... You do that so easily."

"Of course I do. Even before the Sundering, I was able to utilize that form, hence my proficiency with alternating back and forth." Pale gold eyes fluttered open, before Emet-Selch took a moment to adjust the clothing he had pulled out of the tiniest portion of his own aether and transmuted from a strand of hair. "Now then. Let us try this again."

"What are you going to do?" The Traveler drifted closer, curious, and blinked as the Architect huffed and folded his arms. 

"Collect my _wife_. I have reinforced this body appropriately. All that is left, is to test it. I would invite you to travel with me, however I doubt you will find the experience pleasant." 

"Emet-Selch, wait...!" Mitron reached out, hesitating as the Paragon drifted away, heading deeper into the sea of light. "But... What am I supposed to tell them...?"

* * *

"I have... A -lot- of regrets." 

There was a patch of warmth against her arm, and she tried to look at it and found she still could not move. It was... Important? Something she couldn't lose. The Warrior wracked her brain, trying to remember and came up empty handed. She had a mental image of someone in a grey robe, hooded and wearing a white mask that smelled of shed, yellow aspen leaves in fall once they began to decay. Sweet, subtle in anything but a great amount, but... Not quite right. No, the right one was more... wet dust? The moment after it rained. Nameless, formless.

She regretted forgetting. 

Something _shifted_ beyond the pane of blue that obscured her view. It was very brief, and only lasted a moment before pain clicked through her. It pulled at her memories, plunged her into darkness before the warmth against her forearm turned into a searing _cold_. It was familiar. It was... 

_Now hang on a moment._

She wasn't quite ready to go under. She fought for consciousness, swallowed the pain and pushed past it with a practiced ease that briefly baffled her before she proverbially shrugged it off. There was a dull thudding sound that was drawing her attention, steady, not a heartbeat for it lacked the double thump. It pounded through her, once, twice, thrice, and then there were _cracks_ spidering across the blue that made up her world. A white glove with three gold lines along it speared through and halted just before her face. She watched, curious, as the fingers folded and curled to catch the edge and then haul back, taking a chunk with it before she found herself able to _blink_. 

"-_cannot fix her_ then I will _do it myself._"

_<<I have tried. The image used to restore her soul to that of my creator was damaged by the fangs of the beast. Such spread to the rest of her when she triggered my Blessing, and I entrusted all I had with which to recreate the Warrior into her keeping when I granted the use of such to her. If thou removes her from the protective casing, she will hemorrhage memories until she is empty.>>_

"Oh _no_. Whatever will I_ do_, if my wife _forgets_ me again. I recreated Elidibus with the use of her Echo and the imaging system that you seem so fond of using. I can replicate it. For who knows her better than myself?" She felt herself smile slightly, enjoying the way the lilting voice, laden with sarcasm curled through her before a face appeared at the hole in the blue crystal that made up her world. "There you are, my dear." 

"Hullo. I know you."

"Better than I was led to believe." Pale gold eyes narrowed slightly as expressive eyebrows furrowed. "I will get you out of there shortly little Monster, but it will _hurt_."

"Okay." She smiled easily, blinking at him as he quirked a brow. "I trust you."

He hummed at her, before tucking both hands against the hole in the crystal, and _pulling._

* * *

Hades stepped out into Azys Lla, and almost considered stepping right back through the rift when he found himself immediately surrounded by Ascians. 

"Where have you _been_?"

"What took you so long!?"

"Is that _Eschaton-_"

"What... She's been _maimed_." Igeyorhm's soft, horrified words silenced the others, and the Architect shifted slightly, ducking his chin down and partially turning to side-eye the others. Blue eyes wrapped in steel blinked open before peering curiously at those assembled for his arrival. 

"... Hullo. I think I know you, don't I-" Her aether cringed, and he tutted as she gained some memories and lost others, watching the way new cracks formed across the surface of her soul. "... Ascians. Bad guys? No. That's not... Am I supposed to hate you guys? Did you... Did you lot do something wrong?"

They exchanged glances at her confusion, before Elidibus cleared his throat. 

"I believe Emet-Selch and Eschaton have had quite the journey. They are both clearly exhausted, and will require rest. I advise that we reconvene at another time, once they have settled in. Is this acceptable, Architect?"

"It will do. I believe both of us will be rather unavailable for the next several days while we recover. I need to walk myself through the best way to recreate what we did to you to pull you back together." The Warrior shifted in his arms, and he glanced down to follow her line of sight as she peered over towards the door.

"Hey. I _know_ you, don't I." 

Urianger remained silent, chin tucking down slightly as he studied her. She glanced upwards at Emet-Selch before pointing over at the elezen. 

"I _know_ him, like I _know_ you, don't I? I do. I think. Aspen leaves in the fall. Boiled leaf juice. The feel of frayed book bindings and whispered secrets."

"You do, little Monster." He shifted to settle her feet under her, and she wobbled slightly before leaning back against him and frowning. 

"His name is... Let's see." Priscilla narrowed her eyes, reaching up to scritch a hand through her hair. "Oh. Urianger. That's your name. Hey, lookit that. I can _do_ this. I've remembered two people already."

"Yes you have, my little Monster." Hades wrapped his arms around her from behind in a hug, sighing as he pulled her against his chest and rested his chin atop her shoulder. Urianger frowned, before nodding towards the hallway. The Architect nodded, and quietly shifted to start guiding her past the silent Ascians and through the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're off!  
Onwards and upwards, folks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUNTY HAS TO WRITE A CHAPTER BECAUSE I AM POSTING THIS FROM IN BED

"_Do not_ ask her what she remembers." 

Emet-Selch kept his voice quiet as the two of them followed Priscilla into his rooms. She ambled ahead, largely oblivious before stopping and staring blankly at the piano as Urianger nodded his head and kept his voice low as well. 

"What happened?"

"We encountered the hydra that caught Halmarut, and it practically tore her in half. Her Echo activated, healing the physical damage, however just as it struck through to his soul, so too did it strike through to hers. It... damaged, major portions of her, tearing into the method she used to restore herself. As such, when she attempted to pull her own pieces into alignment, not only was it seemingly incredibly painful but it also spread the damage. Coupled with the concussive force that the Primal exited the moon with, it was rather nearly all I could do to gather up the souls she cleaved free and shield her." Two pairs of winter gold eyes watched as she reached for the piano but stopped, frowning and shaking her head as if to clear it. They tracked her progress to the sliding door that led out to the balcony, and the Ascian frowned as she spent a long, painful moment trying to figure out how to open it. "... The result is as you can see. Hydaelyn attempted to staunch the rate at which she is fragmenting and tearing apart, however... Well. Not nearly as _effective_ as I would have liked. I need you to stay here with her." 

"Thy intent is to leave immediately?" Urianger shifted to glance at the Ascian, who sighed and nodded. 

"I need to gather a few things to assist with what I intend to attempt. The less she is exposed to now, the less her Echo will trigger. Every time that it does, it _pains_ her, and fractures her soul just that little bit further. I am _trusting_ you with her, which is more than I would be able to do with the others right now. Lahabrea is liable to take advantage of the situation and who _knows_ where Elidibus truly stands. Keep her here, within the rooms if possible." Emet-Selch sighed softly, rubbing his temples before turning towards the door. He paused, glancing back at where Priscilla had wandered back in and was blinking at the couch, before he huffed a soft sound and exiting the rooms. The door slid shut, and the elezen frowned.

"He's gone now, isn't he." Blue eyes shifted towards him, pinning him in place for a moment before the Astrologian nodded. She tilted her head, before reaching up to scritch her fingers through her hair. "Y'know, when you remember things, it's kinda funny. It's the _bad_ things you remember first, before the good ones. And... There's a lot of bad things about the both've you that I remember." 

"Thou need not go into detail." Urianger cleared his throat quietly, before gesturing to the couch in invitation even as he shifted to sit on the edge of a cushion. "I know that thy feelings hath been complicated by a myriad of lies on my part-"

"I loved you both, didn't I." 

The words caught him off guard, and the elezen slowly lowered his hand as he worked to keep his expression smooth. She settled down next to him, partially turned to watch him and tilt her head once more. "... Thou must be mistaken. Last we parted ways, thy intent was to remain quite cross with thy paramour and myself."

"I dunno. Why else would I just let someone keep hurting me? If I hated you, wouldn't I have just cut you out've my life? It's the only thing that makes sense, t'me." She shrugged, more with one shoulder than the other before leaning against the back of the couch and peering upwards at the decorative, swirled light fixture that hung from the ceiling in the middle of a fan. "Nah. I might've been mad, but... I dunno." 

"I... See." Urianger kept his expression as neutral as he could, trying hard to focus on the then and there as opposed to letting his mind wander. "Is thy current condition one that hath been explained?"

"Remembering is killing me, is what it came down to." She tipped her face towards him, watching him curiously as he folded his hands on his lap. "You want to ask if it hurts, don't you."

"I do. For all that there is naught that I can do to ease thy pain..." He sighed softly, before clearing his throat. "Emet-Selch, nay, _Hades_ hath entrusted me with thy well-being until his return."

"I heard. Y'know, it's not like I went _deaf_. For all that you were whispering, I've got good ears. He's worried. _Really_ worried. A lot've people are, but the two've you've got a personal worry." She beamed at him suddenly. "If I walked out that door, you wouldn't stop me. I know it, without knowing how I know it. But because both of you want me to stay here, I'm gunna. But. _But_. I'm hungry, so you've gotta help me find something to eat, alright?"

Urianger managed a soft smile, and nodded his head.

* * *

Emet-Selch stepped through the wall of his Vault, let his vessel collapse to his knees as he let out a frustrated yell and slammed both fists against the ground. The sound of the impact echoed among the pillars of crystal. 

Why. **Why** _why_ WHY _W__HY_ **WHY!**

He had been _happy_. He had been content with his choice, and now not even Hydaelyn could _fix_ her. How could he _rebuild_ her soul? It was her own Echo that was _killing_ her! It was a cracked, flawed system now that was doing more damage than it was fixing. He splayed his hands flat against the ground and drew in a sobbed breath, trying and failing to fight the hysteria that bubbled out of him in quiet, subdued giggles. 

He'd _had_ her. She had been _there_, in his arms, for less than a _year_. And now he was losing her all over again. He couldn't-

... He had to. For all that he wanted nothing more than to leave everything behind, to wrap himself in slumber and pretend nothing existed it wouldn't _work_. He had seen the damage, but the Mothercrystal had promised him that She would do what She could. Which, as it turned out, had been next to nothing. He cursed, violently, loudly, the air about him rattling as his aether vibrated with his anger. Dead languages spilled from his tongue, and after several long moments he straightened and stared unblinkingly out at the pillars. 

The body was one thing. The soul, quite another. Elidibus had been an experimental hope. He knew how her Blessing worked, but with the entirety of it fundamentally cracked... No. Start at one end, and work his way back. He could try and fix the portrait. He had made one for the Emissary, that wasn't the difficult part. He could do this thing. But if he failed, it wasn't a paragon that he would lose forever, it was his _wife_. 

Hades settled back onto his heels, staring up at the ceiling as he caught his breath, slowly compartmentalizing his distress and shoving it away. Several long, deep breaths later and he was pushing himself to his feet and wrapping his arms about himself. 

What did he need. He needed a way to hold her Echo stable. For that, he could theoretically use the resonant table, the way he had for Elidibus. The difference there is that instead of using it to shift the target of the echo, he would be simply attempting to temporarily glue the cracks shut so that she didn't destroy herself in the process. He could... 

_He could re-write Priscilla and have Persephone back. His Percy. Without the gap of the years-_

"No. No no _no_..." Hades lifted both hands to clutch at his head. That was... Oh, but that was _tempting_ but no. No he-he _couldn't_. Not only would her _friends_ know, but _she_ would find out, and then... 

And then it would be over. They would be through. He would have crossed a line, taken the future from what she would see as a new life, and never see her again. 

_But she would be around to abandon him-_

Emet-Selch firmly quashed the little niggling voice in his head, grit his teeth, and turned to start trying to figure out where on the Star he had left the resonant table.

He would have his _little Monster_ back. He could _fix_ this. He _would_ fix this. 

Or else he would die trying.

* * *

The Warrior swung her feet idly as she sat on the edge of the table, munching contently on a peanut butter and honey sandwich. They had agreed to keep things light for the time being, idly playing with a deck of cards and whiling away the time as he (re)introduced her to tea. Boiled leaf juice, she fondly called it, and promptly added twice as much honey as she probably should have to overwrite the flavour of the tea itself. Her antics drew a slight smile from him, before it faltered as that faint directional presence that was _Emet-Selch_ shifted. It shifted twice more before coming to rest in Azys Lla, and he glanced up as, now that he was through the barrier that prevented free teleportation within the compound, the Ascian opened a rift and stepped out into the living room. 

They both leaned to watch through the door as he kicked the couch against the wall and then rolled up the rug. Setting it aside, he snapped his fingers and a large table manifested before he settled into a crouch to remove a panel from the floor and start to pull wires up, transmute the ends into something usable and then start wiring the table into what Urianger suddenly understood to be a power grid. 

"Little Monster?"

"Hullo." Priscilla hopped off the table, laying her cards neatly face down before ambling over to watch him. She idly looked at the half-eaten sandwich and then offered it out to him as he glanced up at her. "Hungry? I don't remember seeing you eat anything."

Emet-Selch hesitated, hands idly connecting two pieces of cord before he reached up to accept the sandwich. He was quiet for a moment, before he slowly shifted to settle onto his hip with his legs folded under him, huffing out a quiet sound and finishing it for her. "... Thank you. I had rather forgotten for a little bit there that such was a necessity, for all that I took care of it while healing." 

"What happened to the others? I remember there were others." She frowned, and he hummed quietly even as he went back to work. 

"I tanked them deeper within Azys Lla before we left for the Thirteenth. Lay down on the table, will you?" He glanced up as she hummed, watching as she clambered onto the table and laid down. 

"Like this?"

"Your feet are where your head ought to be, little Monster. Swap ends. Urianger, what I am about to attempt has every potential to go _horribly_ wrong, as she would say. While you cannot passively perceive a clear enough image of her soul, would you be willing to ensure her physical form remains stable? It is _imperative_ that she does not leave the table, for any reason until I have finished." Pushing himself up, the Ascian brushed himself off and moved to settle both hands atop the table, narrowing his eyes. 

"Thine faith shalt not be misplaced, however thou hath neglected to compensate for one immutable fact." The elezen made his way to the other side of the table, and settled his hands atop it to mirror Emet-Selch's stance. "I possess the Secrets of Rafail, Hades. Should she slip, she shalt not fall." 

"You-... A question for another time. I will simply accept that this will make my attempt all the easier. Little Monster? Are you ready?"

"Look, I dunno even what you're doing, but all I can tell is I gotta lay on a table and not die, right?" She tipped her head to the side, grinning under the ever-present mask he had made her. "Means I've got the easy job. Question is, are _you_ ready?"

"... No. But I doubt I will ever be."

"Okay." The Warrior's grin eased into a gentle smile, before she looked up at the ceiling. "I trust you. Both've you. If you've gotta choose, choose you guys, okay? That's all I want, right now."

* * *

It felt almost like he was walking into a house that was breaking apart around him, when he eased himself gently into contact with her soul. She didn't flinch, for all that he could tell it pained her, and he could immediately tell that she was largely oblivious to his presence. He had to search around for the reason why, and understanding flickered through him as he viewed the tight, disorganized knot that was the strands of silver that had once drifted through her soul. 

There, and there. The edges of the original portrait, for her physical body. That meant... There. 

He felt the way her soul shuddered as he tried to gently dig through the strands of silver, and immediately froze. 

He couldn't-_he couldn't-_

Warmth, across his essence. Across the piece strapped to her forearm. He gathered himself, putting his hesitation in a proverbial box and got to work.

* * *

Urianger watched, apprehensive as he studied the mixing aether of the two of them. The only physical movement between the two of them was that she folded her arms and stroked her thumb across the chunk of dark amethyst crystal against her skin. He watched as she smiled almost sadly at the ceiling, and exhaled sharply, mastering the panic that surged through him as he watched her aether flicker and her light _go out_. 

The table hummed, flaring to life with a dim red glow that brightened abruptly, the Ascian lifting one hand as he tilted his head, eyes seeing the way pale blues were drifting about the air between them and snapping his fingers. Her aether curled, coiled, and then dove down through the faint ripple of a _suggestion_ that the elezen could barely see the edges of. The Warrior sucked in a breath as a double-beat filled the air, convulsing and then sprawling limply as Emet-Selch sank down to his knees and leaned against the table, lifting a shaking hand to cover his face. 

"Did it-" The Architect's voice was a dry rasp, and he cleared his throat quietly. "Did I... Is she...?"

"Alive." The elezen confirmed, reaching out and brushing his fingers against her shoulder and abruptly jerking back as she sat up abruptly, staring around with wild eyes. "Priscilla?"

Her face scrunched up, and the Warrior reached up to pull the mask from her face with a practiced motion and work her jaw, tasting the inside of her mouth.

"Whoever fed me a Twelve-be-damned sandwich with _peanut butter_ on it oughta get _slapped_."

The astrologian couldn't help it. He lifted a hand to his mouth to try and stifle it, but a small chuckle escaped him. She shot him a knowing grin, pointing at her eyes and then his own before glancing around properly. 

"Seven hells, I think I know how Elidibus felt now. Really, Hades, the _living room__?_" She clicked her tongue, before reaching to pull the Ascian up from where he was quietly watching her and kneeling on the floor. He settled on the edge of the table instead, reaching to disentangle her fingers from his coat and instead trying to pull her towards him. She snorted, anchored herself to the table and bodily hauled him across her lap with a grunt, and then eyed Urianger. "C'mon. You too, yeah? I'm too tired t'care about finicky things like being angry."

"If I _might_ make a suggestion, little Monster?"

"Eh?" She glanced down at the Ascian as he twisted to lounge across her lap, quirking a brow.

"The _bed_ is far more comfortable than the table."

"Well shit. You're right. I seriously doubt I could _walk_ though." 

"Lo and behold." The astrologian gestured to himself, and then to Emet-Selch. "Two largely able-bodied individuals."

She considered that for a moment, and then laughed easily. 

"Alright, you win." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to mention kowalla's comment on the original first placeholder chapter (regarding Emet-Selch considering trying to get Persephone back, as opposed to Priscilla with the portrait) but alas. I had to sleep instead xD


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHH  
Thank you, everyone for your comments!  
I promise I'll respond to them through the day!  
I read EACH AND EVERY ONE, and while I might not always respond promptly, nothing warms my heart quite like seeing your reactions ^.^  
Even if it's just a heart or a flower or incoherent screaming, it's still time you've taken to leave me something I can cherish.   
I love you, all of you.   
Never forget that   
<3

No matter how they arranged themselves, it could only have ever been described as a sandwich made of idiots. An idiot sandwich, so to speak. As it stood, or laid for that matter, the Warrior was snuggled up against the Architect's chest, an arm loosely thrown over his ribs while the other was stretched out on an angle to pillow his head, her face tucked under his chin. Behind her, one arm draped across both her hip and Emet-Selch's, Urianger had tucked his face against the crown of her head and alternated between quietly studying the texture of her hair and watching the silent, almost pensive way that the Ascian watched them both. 

There had been a non-verbal agreement that she would somehow be safer, rest better squished between them. She had drifted off almost immediately after they had both worked to strip the worst of her gear from her, leaving her in her undershirt and pants. Neither of them had done more than remove some decorative, pointy ornaments and drape the Architect's coat over the three of them. 

The three of them stayed like that for hours, two lost to their own thoughts until the figure between them roused slightly. 

"... Air's -thick-. Sommat's wrong...?"

"Nothing is wrong, little Monster. Go back to sleep."

"Y'know, I -felt- the way y'flinched at sayin' that." The Warrior remained tucked up under his chin, sighing softly as one hand shifted to feel around. "... That's not a another you, the hip's wrong. That better be _Urianger_ behind me."

"'Tis I, Warrior." 

"Good. _Good._" She paused, before cracking an eye open and yawning widely. "... Either've you sleep? At all?" 

"Nay." The elezen behind her shifted slightly, clearing his throat quietly as she snorted into the Architect's shoulder. Pale gold eyes met his, one twitching slightly as he was given a _look_. "Falsehood would only invite her wrath." 

"Damn straight it would." She muttered under her breath, before shifting between them so that she could settle onto her back and peer back and forth between them in the dark. Hades immediately tucked down against her shoulder, sighing softly even as Urianger propped himself up on an elbow and adjusted the collar of the coat over them so that it wasn't getting into her face. "So _talk_ t'me."

They were both quiet for a long moment, and she rolled her eyes before tipping her face to stare at the astrologian. He cleared his throat once more, trying to clear the rasp of disuse from it. 

"Thine intent. Wherefor doth we stand, with regards to this?" Supporting his head up with one hand, he lifted the other and wiggled it through the air to indicate the three of them, before narrowing his eyes as the Ascian huffed out a quiet, almost indignant sound. 

"As if her _health_ was not the first thing on your mind." 

"'Tis true, however I did thus deem it more appropriate to perhaps skirt the matter thou intended to voice." And determine how welcome he still might be, considering he wasn't entirely certain how much of her willingness to invite him to _sleep_ stemmed from simply being glad to once more be some semblance of whole. Or at least stable and no longer fragmenting.

"Both good points. And yeah, definitely something we oughta talk about." Priscilla hooked an arm loosely about the Architect's shoulders, the other coming up to find Urianger's hand in the darkness and bring his knuckles to her lips. "... Look, it was never a case of I don't want you, and I've been having _thoughts_ ever since the _thing_. It was that Hades fucked up, and I haven't quite forgiven him this thing but... It's fuckin' _unfair_ to take it out on you. I saw what happened. The only things you're guilty of is _dreaming_ and not telling him to fuck off."

"Do not be so quick to absolve the guilt that doth burn bright within me." Still, he smiled faintly and pulled her hand up to his mouth to press his lips against her knuckles the way she had but a moment before, letting her feel the way his lips curled slightly upwards. 

"Why, 'cause you love it?" The words were lightly teasing, and he hummed out a soft sound of agreement. "Yeah, I noticed. I'm still not lifting the restriction on the _idiot_ though. He can damn well keep his hands away from anyone's junk including his own, for the time being." 

"Oh for the love of..." 

"Serves you right, asshat. Reduces you to _watching_, doesn't it." She didn't have to see the expression on Emet-Selch's face to know he was pouting dramatically, and he shifted slightly as she freed her hand from the elezen's grasp. Tucking it against the side of Urianger's face and lifting her head, she gently nudged him in for a chaste kiss, brushing their lips lightly together. "... Harder t'do in the pitch dark than I thought it'd be. Sorry for the nose."

"Think naught of it. Mind thine eyes." He waited a moment, before lifting his hand and setting motes of light to flicker into existence like so many tiny stars, giving them all a soft, dim illumination. It took a moment for her scrunched up face to relax, eyes cracking open. "Prithee, wouldst thou care for me to attempt a repeat?"

"In a moment, maybe. Someone's _sulking_." She turned a small smile towards the Architect, tugging the collar of the coat across the three of them down further so that she could study his face. "Hey."

"I am _not_ sulking. Such would indicate I was committed to remaining _silent_."

"And we all know _that_ only happens when you hit a breaking point." The Warrior smiled at him as he tilted his face to glance at her and then looked away. "Speaking of, though, are you alright? Please don't deflect by saying you are and meaning literally just physically. My memories've what happened are, I dunno how to describe it. Coloured oddly. Which I'd hazard a guess is 'cause of what you did to save me." 

"It barely took. Your Blessing is still damaged, for all that the rest of your soul has stabilized. There were... Problems, that prevented me from fully restoring you." He was muttering now, shifting to press his face into her shoulder as she frowned down at him. 

"Like what? I get the feeling this is a bit more serious than just, y'know. _Me_. C'mon. _Talk_ t'me."

Emet-Selch was silent for a long moment, before sighing and propping himself up on an elbow, cupping the side of her face with one hand. 

"In Amaurot, after we reinforced our Bond, I discovered an utterly _terrifying_ thing that dwells within you. A speck of the Doom which had stricken our Star that had _infected_ you as Eschaton. Should I have done everything within my power to fully restore you to yourself, Hydaelyn's Blessing and all, I would have exposed myself to it. Your grip on it, while previously unconscious and ironclad, was _disrupted_ and as such 'tis liable to spread. You told us, that if it came down to it to choose myself and the elezen, yet how could I do so without utterly damning you?" His lips pulled into an unhappy frown, brows furrowing slightly as he shook his head. "I _cannot_. And so you continue, cracked, broken thing that you are because I dare not risk this thing contacting my Creation magics. Such a fine line to walk, I find myself surprised it worked at _all_."

She stared at him, brow wrinkling as she thought about his words and then, very quietly, said '_Oh._'

"This Doom. Thou speaketh of the calamity thy magic unfolded before us in Amaurot?" Urianger frowned, sitting up slightly and straightening as the Architect nodded slowly. "And it yet lives within yon Warrior?"

"It does. I have hazarded a guess that 'tis where her mania stems from, once her Echo Pulse restores her. The only way I have been able to think of that might remove it is to _cut it out_. Which still runs the risk of exposing myself to it. Zodiark's tempering inoculated the rest of the Convocation members, and everyone else _died_ and it was cleansed from them before they re-emerged from the..." Hades trailed off, frowning. "... It was... Oh _Hydaelyn_, what have you _done_. You don't starve yourself because you refuse to devour aether, do you..." 

"You're... You're thinking she's locked the sickness inside of herself, aren't you. But that doesn't quite match, does it? Zodiark stopped the Doom, and saved the Star." Priscilla squinted up at him, blinking as he nodded. 

"He did. He thus served his proper initial purpose, however this does not account for the fragments of it that yet lingered within the living. Oh, He _countered_ it in the Amaurotine populace that His aether fell upon, but the infected populace of the rest of the Star is another matter entirely. It simply did not effect them the way it did our people, considering their lack of Creation magic."

"Like a cold, where some people can be sick but not show signs of it, and others get screwed over by it?" 

"Precisely. I know not how your faction managed to fare without His tempering against the strains of it found in the wild, save that you must have by and large prevented the use of Creation magic in and of itself." Emet-Selch sighed and traced his fingers along her face, following the scars found there and then gently brushing his thumb across her lips. "What did you _do_, my dear? How did you save those of our people that followed you?" 

"Good question. Not one I've got an answer for." Priscilla snagged his hand to gently turn it and press her lips against the backs of his knuckles, brow furrowed as she tried to think it over. "... You're suppressing my Echo, aren't you."

"As best I dare try to. The _last_ thing I need is for it to trigger uncontrollably and shake you to pieces once more. 'Tis an incomplete grasp, however, for the aforementioned reason."

"Pray, give us time to suss out a method with which to resolve thine issue." Urianger snagged her other hand, tucking it against the side of his face even as he shifted to gently bump his shoulder against the Architects. "There must be one. Yon Convocation members didst create Zodiark. The method with which to disassemble the Doom needs must rest within the method used, perhaps what was utilized and offered in the Creation itself."

"Igeyorhm doesn't _remember_. I already_ tried_ that route." The Architect hunched his shoulders, looking and sounding miserable until the Warrior propped herself up to kiss him tenderly. 

"... We're all've us insane, and the literal definition's applying yourself to something repeatedly and expecting a different result right? So don't give up, alright? For all that I don't like going to others for help, well, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am now without it." 

She smiled at him, and the Ascian hesitated for a moment before sighing and letting the faintest, barest flame of hope flicker to live within him. 

"... Oh very well."

* * *

"Are you _sure_ you have it." 

"I do." Urianger lightly toweled his face before inspecting his reflection, tipping his face this way and that. He didn't quite yet need to trim his facial hair, but it wouldn't be long before he started to look like a _goat._ A few more days. He let his gaze flit across the mirror to meet the reflection of pale gold eyes over his shoulder. "Her Echo shalt not trigger with the knowledge imparted unto mine self at my disposal. This I hath sworn."

"If you _fail_ in this-"

"Seven hells, Hades ease off him yeah? Breakfast's done boys, c'mon. This'll all get cold if you keep bickering in the bathroom." 

"Yon Architect is simply concerned for thy well-being, Priscilla. I cannot fault him for this thing." Turning away from the mirror, Urianger followed the Ascian out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting at the table and pulling one of the plates towards himself. Two pairs of pale gold eyes followed the Warrior as she brought the kettle over and set it on the table next to the milk, honey and sugar. Emet-Selch reached to snag it and pour some hot water into his mug, opening a small packet of dark brown powder and pouring it in after. 

"I know, and I can't fully fault him for it either but I'm not gunna just _drop dead_. The Lightwardens gave me a fair bit've practice at holding onto parts of my own aether, and I could probably throttle my Echo myself if I needed to." She smiled and joined them at the table, dropping a pair of teabags into the elezen's mug before pulling her own breakfast towards her and starting to munch away. 

"Be that as it may, I still _worry_. I have had you aware for _less than a year_, little Monster. Countless generations of yearning and longing do _not_ balance well against a single year rounded up regardless of how much affection you attempt to pump into it." Shoulders hunching, Emet-Selch picked up his own laden piece of toast, biting delicately into the corner. 

"Less than- It's gotta have been more'n that, hasn't it?" The Warrior blinked at him, before frowning. "Let's see... one, two three four... Five months of Llightwardens? Four. Four ish? And then... So that'd've been, what, _six_ and then... Oh. It's been, what, nine months? At most? It feels like forever."

"For _you_, perhaps it has been. For _me_ I may as well have blinked and transitioned from tempered to reeling with the implications of _freedom_. 'Tis good, however, to be reminded of how _horrible_ your grasp of the passage of time is."

"I feel like we've had this conversation before." She squinted at him, before shrugging and munching on her breakfast, eyes idly drifting over to watch as Urianger prepared his tea. "So what's the plan?"

"Thou shalt remain in my presence as best as can be arranged and managed while the Architect searches for information." The tea was set aside to steep for a few minutes so that he could lift his laden piece of toast and lean slightly over the plate, crunching through and bringing a hand up awkwardly to try and make sure he didn't lose any chunks of egg off of it. "...To answer thine incoming question, whatever _we_ do shalt remain thy choice, though I feel as though thou wilt also seek answers and solutions to thy current ailment."

"Alright. Let's go to Igeyorhm first. Hades, maybe try Elidibus. He seems the type to _know_ things." The Warrior glanced over to the Architect, who shook his head and paused long enough to sip his coffee. 

"Zodiark was initially Lahabrea's idea. I intend to speak with him first." 

"Oh. I feel like I should've known that." Priscilla squinted off at nothing in particular, before shrugging and peering between the two casters that shared the table with her. "Alright. We've got our plans then. Everyone meets back here for supper at the latest?"

"I find no fault with this." The elezen looked from her to the Ascian, who nodded slowly and set down his mug. 

"'Tis agreed upon, then. Do _try_ not to do anything stupid, will you?"

The Warrior smiled as innocently as she could, and got a roll of the Architect's eyes and quiet, muffled polite cough from Urianger.


	4. Chapter 4

"'Tis thine intent to bid me relinquish my grasp of thine Echo." The words were spoken with an air of resignation as they walked the halls of Azys Lla, heading for Igeyorhm's rooms and hoping she might be there. The Warrior glanced over to him, mask in place and smiled faintly. 

"Can't sneak anything past you, now can I. Someone said 'the soul remembers' once so I'm hoping, I dunno, that if she focuses on it I might be able to do the thing. If I can do the thing, then we've got our answer, and I'm pretty sure once or twice won't _kill_ me."

"I must decline."

"What." The word was nearly an indignant squawk as she stopped and watched him pass her, eyes narrowing. 

"Thou would incite the ire of the Architect, and thus would also cause me much grief." He paused, before turning to face her and fold his arms, sighing softly and rolling his shoulders as he proverbially braced himself. "Thou hath underestimated the severity of thy condition, and I will _not_ be party to thy self-destructive tendencies should our paramour come to learn of thy latest intent."

"Oh come _on_, like you're one to talk mister 'forgets to eat for three days because of a _book_'." She stared at him, and he felt the faintest tickles across his aether and straightened his posture. He wondered how often he had felt it without realizing what it was, and sighed softly as he lifted one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, flicking his fingers out towards her as he countered her fact with a question.

"Thou know the lengths I would go to, to see this Star safe. Thou also knows well the duplicity I hath sunk to, to ensure thy longevity. Why-for should thou believe for a heartbeat that ne'er wouldst I say _no_ to thee?"

"You got any _better_ ideas?" The Warrior scowled, and he met it with an even stare. 

"Nay. However, thine intent is unacceptable. Think, for but a moment, what our paramour wouldst say should he learn of this." 

"I mean yeah he'd be _mad_ but-" She paused as he stepped closer and narrowed his eyes, leaning into her space. He fought to keep from getting distracted by the faint smell of her, and pitched his voice into a low warning growl.

"Does the fact that he does all he can and more to own his mistakes and make thy requested attempt to balance yon scales of judgement 'ere his end mean thou bears the right to flippantly disregard his warnings?"

"Uri, that's-" Priscilla pinked slightly across the face, leaning back as he shook his head, sighed once more and straightened.

"His task to me was to ensure thy _safety_ and continued good health by way of the stranglehold he hath taught me to bring to bear 'pon thine Echo. 'Tis my intent to see this task through properly. Simply because thou art certain of thy resilience in the event of a catastrophic failure, doth not mean such is a guarantee-" He paused, before his expression eased. Tilting his head, he tucked a knuckle against his lips. "... There may yet be a way with which to accomplish both tasks. Pray, search for yon fragment from the Ninth with me before we reach Igeyorhm. We spoke at length of their abilities, and perhaps their method of memory transference may yet come in handy."

"_Ugh_. Y'know I could just knock your ass out and continue on my way, right?" The Warrior groused sourly, before folding her arms and following him as he doubled back to start heading for the nearest balcony. 

"Could, but shall not."

"I _hate_ you."

He smiled to himself, knowing it to be untrue.

* * *

"Speaker."

"Architect."

They eyed each other across Lahabrea's living room, one dressed in his Ascian robes with the hood up and mask in place and the other wearing the Garlean garb he had come to prefer before Emet-Selch sighed and folded his arms. 

"We have... _Rarely_ if ever seen properly eye to eye, save on the matter of the Emissary's health and a fraction of the plans laid throughout the eons." The Architect turned slightly, so that he could watch the other Paragon out of the corner of his eye. So many ways to spin his words, and none of them liable to get the information he wanted. He sighed and let his arms hang limply, letting his exhaustion show. best to stick with the plain truth, then. "... Eschaton holds a fragment of the Doom within her. I need to know how Zodiark dealt with it so that I may attempt to replicate such on a small scale."

"She-" Lahabrea's jaw hung slightly open, and he shook his head. "Impossible, the Doom was taken care of by Zodiark."

"Do I _lie_?"

"We shall see in a few minutes, won't we." The Speaker folded his arms, eyes narrowing as the seconds ticked past. If anything, Emet-Selch simply looked a smidgen more tired than he had a moment before, and they stared at one another for a handful of minutes before the Architect folded his arms. 

"Are we done? Are you willing to _help_ me now?"

"Would that I could, my words will doubtless fail to help you."

* * *

"There you are. Good grief, we've been climbin' for a bell at _least_."

The Warrior peered at the lizard-like snout that angled towards her, nostrils flaring. 

"Star-eyed smells _wrong_."

She paused at that, before lifting an arm and sniffing at one pit. "... I mean... I smell _clean_, if that's what you're on about."

"They possess the ability to smell aether. A hand, if thou would?" Urianger's voice came from below, where he clung to the rocks and tried very hard not to look down at the vast expanse that opened up below him. The Warrior snickered quietly before shifting aside and reaching down to help him reach the ledge she was perched on. 

"I always forget, you _doing_ things is a recent thing. We still gotta teach you how to swim. Or, at least, not _drown_."

"Waterproof books and such shall become a long-term goal. Devourer, thy memory-sharing ability. Wouldst thou be able to recover memories of the far-distant past? Say, perchance from a previous life?" White-knuckled, the elezen kept one hand on Priscilla's wrist and the other on the ledge he sat on. It was a visual that was at odds with the calm, almost mild expression on his face, and it drew another snicker from her.

"Don't worry, I've gotcha." 

He grunted quietly as the Devourer rumbled and crooned and then, at length, tipped their head to peer at them with one eye.

"No."

"Couldja help someone remember something they might've forgot?" The Warrior frowned, scritching her face idly with her free hand. "The person's alive, after all."

"That? Mrrnmn. Yes."

"Great! Let's go find Igeyorhm and-"

"I simply _cannot_ leave the two of you alone for more than ten minutes, can I." Three sets of eyes tilted out to blink at Emet-Selch as he tiredly sighed and hovered in mid-air. "Lahabrea was _most_ informative. Unfortunately, faux tempering is _not_ the answer, as hopeful as an easy solution such as that would have been. It would be necessary to utterly inundate your aether with a specific mix, which would then have to overpower it and forcibly align it into something less malignant. There would then be a span of time where you would be required to retain this tempering to ensure it did not relapse." 

"Out've curiosity, why didn't he tell you this the last time you checked?" She tilted her head, brows furrowing as her lips pulled down at the corners, before grunting as he shrugged. 

"By and large due to the fact that he was dead. I simply never thought to once he had been returned to us." 

"Why does Star-eyed End not fix her sick?"

"Beecause I can't? That's... Not how it works." She smiled faintly at the lizard-shaped fragment. "I can't shapeshift, and even if I could I don't think it'd help."

"Shaping? No. Mrrnm, _speaker words hrrn-_" They leaned out, reaching to prod her with a claw-

_("You... You are _trading_. Speed for strength. Strength for durability.")_

_"(Violet to gold, crimson to teal. 'Tis a balance to it.")_

_("How do you know when to duck, when to dodge? When to side step, or when to weave?" The blond swordsman smirked, tipping his head back to drain the wine from the glass before he reached out to snag the nearby bottle and refill it. )_

-before pulling away. The Warrior stared at them, before frowning. 

"Wait you... Think that'll work? But my Echo's cracked. It probably won't-" Steel-wrapped blue eyes narrowed. "Wait. Time out. How did you know I knew those things? One've them happened in a _dream_."

The Devourer shifted, coughing once before pushing off and diving over the ledge. Limbs spread, and a membrane fanned out between them before they were gliding contently away. 

"You little _shit_\- CONSENT IS A THING Y'KNOW! DON'T GO THROUGH PEOPLE'S BRAINS WITHOUT ASKIN'! That _fucker_...!"

* * *

"So. What've we learned today." 

"That apparently this fragment of yours has a touch-based mind-reading ability and that I should never _ever_ let it achieve physical contact with me." Emet-Selch idly pushed the couch back into it's previous place atop the carpet, having packed the resonant table away. The Warrior snickered, flopping down onto it and stretching out before blinking as the Ascian scooted her feet enough that he could sit down on the end and then settle them in his lap once more. 

"Good point. I almost wonder what all they've got from me. How does it even work? Everything? Bits and pieces? I-" She heaved a sigh, before shifting and scooting so that Urianger could sit down on the other end of the couch and then promptly used his lap as a pillow. He very carefully kept his tea held away from her, in the event that she jostled it. "I gotta say, least they're not beakin' off about some've the horrible shit I've done. What else did we learn?"

"That in thy first incarnation, thou very likely used thine ability to alter aether to a specific aspect to subdue and alter this corrupted aether into something managable." The elezen frowned faintly. "Coupled with thine ennervation aspect, thou likely siphoned such from the others before doing so. This conforms with the theme of Hydaelyn taking up thy torch, so to speak."

"Okay, but what I don't get is why doesn't Hydaelyn just convert all that sick then? What's missing? Surely she couldn't've just run out've _time_ to do this over the years." Tucking an arm under her head, she frowned at the ceiling, and Emet-Selch huffed quietly. 

"Is it not obvious? Attached to the Lifestream, to the very aether of the Star, she has likely continued to quietly do this thing in the background. The return rate on the conversion must be _horrible_. It would also explain why She is fading in the first place. She has by and large used Herself up, when she was only initially intended to maintain without losing or gaining strength. That, or she was based off of a perpetual motion machine. 'Tis a misleading name, as they _do_ tend to run out of steam when given long enough." 

"Makes sense. But, this is all thoughts for another time. The big think we gotta have is how to glue my Echo together long enough for me to, I dunno. Fix the sick within me, it seems. And then there's how to fix the Echo itself."

"Without the Doom within you, fixing your Echo is simple enough. I duplicated the damaged 'portrait' and repaired it. A few minor tweaks and then it should be able to sweep through you properly."

"Could thou theoretically do such to any?" Urianger frowned faintly, glancing over to the Ascian, who shrugged. 

"Theoretically. 'Tis simply a matter of adjusting the target of my little Monster's Echo. We did such to Elidibus after she struck him near Eden. It _disagrees_ with her, however. Could I alter the target to you? Yes. Could I do this thing to restore Rafail? No. She can do so to herself to temporarily recover bits and pieces of Persephone's memories because Hydaelyn gave her a template to work off of, though such is damaged still." The Architect shrugged slightly, resting his hands on the Warrior's legs and tipping his head back to close his eyes. 

"Alright. So order of operations is cure my sick, fix my echo. And then we're all good" She yawned quietly, wiggling her sock-clad toes and blinking up at Urianger. "You stayin' for lunch?"

"I suppose so."

"Good. 'Cause it's Emet-Selch's turn to make something, and I don't wanna lose both pillows too soon."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a whole whack of prompts to do, so main story might get put on hold for a few chapters  
I did not  
expect this O.o  
Please note I'm excited, and itching at the chance to get through them : D

They watched the Ascian eventually sigh, haul himself up and then make his way to the kitchen before they settled once more into a comfortable silence. The Warrior seemed disinclined to move, and Urianger certainly wasn't about to break the peace of the situation. He took the opportunity to sip his tea quietly and then glanced down, smiling faintly as he caught her watching him. 

"Art thou yet filled with regret?"

"Nah. Tryin' to decide if I should be angry or proud've you." Her face split into a grin, before she reached up to remove her mask and then set it atop the back of the couch. Her expression faltered after a moment, and she sighed. "You said _no_ to me. And I mean, yeah, I _get_ why you did. Doesn't mean I _like_ it. But I'm torn, 'cause I dunno how much of what people go along with what I say is 'cause they've got no choice or..."

"Our paramour did set me to the task of thy continued stability. Above and beyond this thing, thy well being is a matter of grave import." The elezen glanced about for a table to set his tea down on, and simply set it to carefully hang in mid-air. Looking back down at her, he started to carefully work his fingers through her hair, deftly untangling knots as he went. "'Tis true, that thy words hold a thread of aether when thine intent is brought to bear. However, this influence, if noted, can be fought."

"I only learned it was a _thing_ not that long ago. Sometime around Eden, really." Her eyes slid shut with a quiet, pleased hum. He took the opportunity to brush her hair back from her face, knuckles brushing against her cheeks. "... I still worry."

"While I cannot confirm how many actions thy words hath influenced regarding this trait, ne'er think for a moment that thou wouldst be able to turn one 'gainst their own true wishes. This... compulsion, 'tis not strong enough to do such. The individuals influenced needs must also want this thing that thy words may yet turn them towards." Urianger offered her a slight smile, before leaning down to press a soft kiss against her forehead. "'Tis a subtle, gentle thing. Not a shove."

"But it _does_ build with time. Or, at the very least, it used to." They both glanced over to see the Ascian leaning against the doorframe, arms folded as he smirked. "I know what _you_ want, little Monster, but I have yet to inquire after the astrologian's preference. Ham and cheese? Bacon, lettuce and tomato? Chicken, lettuce under bacon?"

"I wondered about that, y'know. Doesn't it, I dunno... Do anything to you?" She frowned as the elezen looked thoughtful. 

"The first option, if thou wouldst be so kind." 

"Little Monster, I am a _Sorcerer of Eld_. The _pitiable_ amount of power behind the compulsion your voice weaves is _laughable_ at best." Emet-Selch waved a hand, letting out a little huff of amusement as she sat up and narrowed her eyes. 

"But you pretty much _always_ do what I tell you to!"

"Because I _love_ you. I know. _Shocking_, isn't it." He lifted a hand and easily caught the couch cushion that she hauled up and threw at him, lips pulling into a smirk once more. "Oh cease _pouting_ so. I quite enjoy it when you order me around, provided such is nothing _too_ terrible. We had this conversation before, do recall. There is much and more you could _convince_ me to do."

"... I gotta ask now, what about after I became Eschaton?" She frowned faintly, reaching out to catch the cushion as he tossed it back to her. She tucked it into place before propping her feet up on it, reclining into Urianger's lap once more. Almost immediately, he went right back to smoothing his fingers through her hair, nails catching lightly against her scalp.

"I will admit, it took some time to get _used_ to that but by the time you had gained that little Secret it mattered not. I was already _yours_. The passive form simply does not _work_ against someone already committed to you, which was why Hythlodaeus also proved by and large immune. It was how we convinced you of his feelings, in fact. 'Tis the active version that proved more effective, though you were loath to use it save for the odd emergency. I believe it was part of why you were such an advocate for free will."

"If it didn't work, how did you have to get _used_ to it." The Warrior groused quietly, folding her arms and trying to sulk. It was spoiled somewhat by the way her face was relaxing and she kept tipping her head to better enjoy the elezen's work with his hands.

"Simply because something is ineffective does not mean it goes unnoticed. The best way I might be able to describe it is to liken it to a breeze. Certainly, when you walk you may feel it at your back, but such lacks the strength to properly propel you. And if you are already headed in that direction, then what power does it hold over you? None. Some may even turn their face to enjoy the breeze from time to time." Waving a hand idly, Emet-Selch sighed and turned to head back into the kitchen. 

"He _totally _just came out to watch, didn't he." 

"'Tis very likely."

She snickered softly, and closed her eyes to better enjoy the long, agile fingers in her hair.

* * *

The Ascian brought the sandwiches with him, making his way to the living room and quirking a brow at the way Urianger was watching the Warrior as she lightly dozed. He almost hesitated, a minor concern about her Echo potentially picking up his presence and rousing her but a brief check confirmed the stranglehold the elezen retained on it. Still, he kept his step light as he made his way across the carpet and offered the plate with the sandwiches out to the astrologian, who accepted it with a slight nod. It was then balanced carefully on the arm of the couch, and the Architect circled around behind it to haul himself up along the back of it and stretch out, legs folded at the ankle and one hand tucked behind his head. 

"This must be a novel experience for her, to be able to _rest_ without her aetheric senses screaming at her the moment something within a certain range so much as _twitches_." Voice pitched low and kept quiet, he gestured with one hand and collected his sandwich as it floated up to him. Urianger hummed quietly as he collected his own and carefully leaned, taking a bite over the plate as his other hand continued to gently smooth through the Warrior's hair. 

"... Thou needs to recall that in this life, she was first a cut-purse, second a cut-throat. For all that her Echo does thusly to rouse her should anything alter within a certain distance, 'tis ne'er a good idea to underestimate the natural reflexes inherent to such an upbringing." 

Emet-Selch huffed quietly. "You sound almost as though you operate under the constant assumption that, should she be in your presence, she is aware of what you _do_." 

"Thou does not?" A brow was quirked, though the elezen didn't bother to twist to turn it on the Architect. Instead, he simply set his sandwich back down and brushed some crumbs from his face. 

"... Not particularly, no. Do you _know_ something that I don't, that leads you to do so?" Emet-Selch tilted his head slightly, studying the back of Urianger's head as he was answered with a soft hum. 

"Such is not mine to divulge. 'Tis a fairly well-kept secret, even 'mongst the Scions. That I know of such was an accident, in and of itself." 

"-Please-, you think she would not tell me if I asked her?" An audible pout flavoured the Ascian's tone, and he left the sandwich to float in mid-air as he idly prodded the back of the elezen's head. The Warrior shifted slightly, drawing a glance form both of them as she kept her eyes shut and simply made herself a smidgen more comfortable.

"'S not a secret, really. Well, I s'pose it might be, but..." 

"Well now, look who decided to join us in the land of the living." The Architect smirked slightly, and taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Wasn't dead to begin with, let alone asleep." She stretched slightly, before making a grabby hand towards the plate balanced on the arm of the couch. The elezen picked it up for her, tore of a small piece and - minding the egg salad filling - held it over her mouth. The Warrior pinked slightly across the cheeks, but obligingly opened her mouth so that he could feed it to her and folded her hands on her stomach. After a moment of chewing and clearing her throat, she glanced to where Emet-Selch had shifted to prop himself on on an elbow and peer down at her over Urianger's shoulder. "... I got almost killed as a kid. Woke up to a knife going across my throat. Put the fear've the Twelve into me, and I've never slept the same since, is all. I don't want people's pity, so I just... Don't talk about it, really."

"Hence why you practically _leapt_ out of your skin the night I took you barhopping. I see." He frowned faintly, looking thoughtful with his brows furrowing under his third eye. "I _am_ sorry for that, you know."

"I know." She smiled up at him, before the pink across her face spread with the next piece of sandwich offered to her.

* * *

Twelve, but she was _bored_ as she lay stretched out on the couch. 

Urianger sat across from Emet-Selch at the table in the kitchen, visible through the doorway between the two rooms. They were doing... _something_, and she only knew that because she tucked her mask into place, slid a finger between the eye-holes and cringed at the way the aether between the two of them was lighting up in a rather spectacular, blinding way. Neither spoke much outside of brief, quiet assurances from the Architect that the elezen was rapidly getting better and equally quiet, if strained grunts from the astrologian. 

She focused, closing her eyes and turning her thoughts inwards to try and poke and prod her Echo-

"_Stop_ that." 

Throwing her hands into the air at the peeved sound of the Ascian's voice from the kitchen, the Warrior blew out a sigh. Rolling from the couch, she heard an answering huff from one of the two in the kitchen and put her feet under her to head towards the bathroom. Her hands practically _itched_ with the urge to _do_ things, and she removed the mask before pausing in front of the mirror. Leaning in, she reached up to rake a hand back through the shaggy, unkempt mess that was her hair, before searching through the room she was in. 

Brush? Check. Scissors? Hah! She had _knives_ for what she planned. Towel? Draped around her shoulders, and she started to ease the mass of neatly aligned bristles through her hair. Urianger really _had_ gotten most of the tangles out, she mused, but if he was going to do that more often then the least she could do was meet him part way, right? _Right?_ Hmm. 

The hairbrush just wasn't the _same_, and even when she spent a moment running her fingers through the uneven strands and against her scalp it was... Well, not nearly as good. She smiled at the memory of long fingers, gloved or otherwise, before setting the brush aside and tugging a throwing knife free. What looked -good-? What even _was_ a good look? Hmm. Well, if nothing else she could at least even out some of it. She wanted to make sure she had at least a _little_ bit of length to it. 

She liked it, just a _little_ bit, when it was tugged on after all. The thought spiraled out between connecting moments and settled on the way Hades might look with Urianger's fingers in his hair. A shake of her head drew enough of her focus to the task at hand.

It still wasn't perfect by any means, nor was it professionally done but after a good five or so minutes it was less all over the place. She tidied up after herself, before stretching and ambling back out to peer at the two men who were still sitting at the table. Emet-Selch looked mildly bored, and Urianger had a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. 

"... So whatcha doing?"

"Teaching him Clarity of Vision. 'Tis going about as poorly as I expected." The Ascian idly folded one arm across his chest so that he could cup his elbow and sighed as he drummed his fingers against the side of his face. "What is it that you lack that can be supplemented? Focus? Ought I implement a _reward_ system to prompt more effort?" 

"Time and practice." The elezen slowly lifted his cup of tea, taking a small sip before ever so carefully setting it back down as the Warrior ambled over and peered between them.

"I dunno, I sort've like the idea of a reward system."

"-Please-, you simply want to look for an excuse to keep yourself active. Rest does not suit you." 

"Why does that being true have to change anything? Two birds, one stone." She shot Emet-Selch a crooked grin, and he smirked back at her before gesturing towards Urianger. She perked up, before ambling over and settling herself sideways onto the astrologian's lap. "So what _are_ you doing? As in, how're you doing it?"

"I am forming shapes and alternating colours with aether." He quirked a brow as she squinted at him. "What."

"I don't see anything."

"Naturally. 'Tis due to how our paramour hath also made such _invisible_ to the naked eye. Y'shtola wouldst likely have the ability to perceive such with ease." The cup of tea was carefully pushed further onto the table as the elezen straightened slightly, brow furrowing. "Otherwise, 'tis mine to attempt to pick one singular symbol out of a variety of them."

"Now _that_ is patently untrue. Even sundered as you are, you still have the potential to regain your sight. It was sharper than mine, and there is _absolutely no reason_ why such needs must be beyond your grasp." Huffing idly, Emet-Selch shifted to rest his elbows on the table, smirk lingering about one of the corners of his mouth as his eyes narrowed slightly. "To make matters more difficult, I also have them moving and hiding behind others."

"What's his success-fail rate?"

"Roughly seventy five percent, all told. I will admit, I thought he would pick up on this quite easily. I was wrong, however."

"My talent at such hath grown in leaps and bounds, yet such seems not liable to be considered 'enough'. With barely an afternoon of practice, thou believes such shalt simply-" Urianger quieted, mouth partially open as the Warrior kissed at the side of his jaw before slipping off of his lap. 

"Welp. G'luck with that. I'm gunna go and bug Elidibus then. I'm _bored_, and at least he's fun to torment." 

They watched her leave, before sharing a glance and a frown. 

"... She is not yet fully comfortable with this, is she."

"No," Admitted the Architect with a soft sigh. "No she is not. But she _is_ trying, and to be entirely fair she is very likely being eaten alive by the boredom that lingers within her."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Lycelle  
And, y'know. Everyone who likes chocolate.

By the time she got back, the rooms smelled of _chocolate_, and her stomach reminded her that she had neglected to eat anything in recent enough memory for it to really matter. She made her way into the kitchen and blinked at the two of them as they both paused and turned to stare at her, settling shoulder to shoulder to block her view of what was on the counter behind them. She was immediately suspicious, and folded her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. 

"Boys."

They shifted slightly to glance at one another, and she was struck for a moment by the fact that Urianger was the _taller_ of the two. Head and shoulders taller, in fact. For a moment, she mentally measured herself to them and felt her eye begin to twitch slightly. 

"Little Monster. How was Elidibus?"

"Fiiine? Why? Can't you tell that from here?" She quirked a brow as he hummed and looked thoughtful. 

"I _suppose_ I could, however such would defeat the purpose of idle conversation, would it not?"

Her eyes narrowed, and they both gave her a perfectly mirrored set of utterly innocent expressions.

"What'd you two do?"

Urianger cleared his throat quietly, opening his mouth before pausing as the Ascian blithely nudged his foot. 

"Why, secured a proper bribe of course. We both are acutely aware of how _boring_ you find recovery. We thought you might appreciate it." They both stepped aside, and Emet-Selch flourished somewhat to indicate the large, tiered chocolate cake that sat on the counter. Her instincts screamed something about a _trap_, but there was an utter lack of orange _pain_ anywhere in sight and she was having a hard time imagining either of them deliberately poisoning or knifing her at that point. 

Still...

"Thank's? I guess?" Cautiously, she eased away from the door frame, and took in the rest of the kitchen as she made her way towards them. There were an _awful_ lot of pans in the sink. Emet-Selch was watching her with a partially lidded gaze and Urianger was... Well, _Urianger_, which was suspicious in and of itself. As she drew closer, she realized what was missing.

There were no plates. There was no cutlery. Of course, that last part might have been because she generally carried knives with her, but both of them tended to be a tad bit more _civilized_ than she was when it came to eating. Schooling her expression into one of idle curiosity, she crossed the last few feet and ever so innocently leaned in to study the cake. There wasn't anything written in the chocolate icing, but a rough heart had been sketched in. 

This wasn't the sort of thing her Echo would react to. No, instead she relied upon the ever so slight shift of the Ascian's weight as he nigh silently lunged, aiming to try and mush her face into the cake. The Warrior almost felt bad for him, she really did. 

She had always been fast.

She _ducked_, snagging the entire cake with both hands and grinning as she pivoted and mushed the whole thing against his face. His muffled grunt with the impact was satisfying in ways that hearkened back to pranks on the First, and she opened her mouth to say something as he staggered back and brought both hands up to free himself as best he could when a cupcake was mushed against the side of her face. Stepping aside, she peeled it off of her face to _stare_ at the still utterly innocent looking Urianger as he hefted another cupcake from a tray of them that he had seemingly pulled from nowhere. 

"Oh it is _o-!_"

Hades had recovered from the cake. His partner in crime's distraction had bought him the time he had needed to lob the entire thing at her and she staggered under the weight of it as it impacted against her shoulder and almost knocked her clear off her feet. 

"Divide and conquer. Our paramour stands but the slenderest of chances." The elezen offered the tray to the Ascian, who snagged two cupcakes and hefted them as the Warrior pushed herself up to stare at the two of them, baring her teeth in a grin even as she took two handfuls of icing-loaded cake. 

"She leads with her left, for all that she is right handed. You were correct, however. This is a _remarkably_ better idea than what I would have gone with."

* * *

She found she was _really_ enjoying the sound of Urianger's muffled groans as she licked chocolate from the tip of his ear. They were laying on the floor in the kitchen, bits of cake and icing everywhere. Hades was stretched out on his side next to them, watching hungrily as he propped himself up on an elbow and wove his fingers together. Her fingers were in the elezen's mouth, and he dutifully sucked the icing from them even as she shifted to dip her head and eat a piece of cake from where it was stuck against his throat.

She licked the spot clean shortly after, and then lifted her eyes to survey the Architect as he fought ever so hard not to _touch_, despite how his hips shifted when their eyes met. The Warrior thought about it, before one corner of her mouth quirked upwards. 

"Oh _alright._"

A slight breath came from the cake-spattered Architect, and he reached forward to tuck a glove under her chin and tilt her head up, mouth moving insistently against hers. A light nip to her bottom lip had her humming out a soft chuckle and deepening the kiss even as she brought wet, clean fingers up against the side of his face. Urianger took the opportunity to reach down and adjust his robes as he drew in a relatively steady breath, watching before they broke apart and glanced down at him. 

"So it was _his_ idea?"

"It was." 

The Warrior hummed quietly, eyeing both of them critically before a slow grin crossed her features. A hand reached out to snag Emet-Selch by the hair, gently tugging his head to the side so that she could murmur into his ear. A thoughtful look answered her words before a smirk quirked one corner of his mouth up. A slight nod, and she released him so that he could roll and put his feet under him, making his way to the counter even as she pushed herself up and start to shed her boots, belts and pants. They were thrown haphazardly onto the floor before she hopped up onto the kitchen counter. 

Confused, the elezen propped himself up on his elbows until he saw the way the Ascian dug the bowl of unused icing out of the coldbox and handed it over to her. Clarity came to him when she dug a finger into the chocolate, licked some from her finger and then smeared a little bit against her thigh. 

"Oh no, I seem to have dropped some icing on my leg." Her tone matched the smug grin across her face, and the Warrior's eyes narrowed playfully as he started to push himself to his feet. "Whatever will I do. Urianger, you're not _busy_. Help me out, will you?"

"Remind me to never _ever_ cast you for anything rated for mature audiences only-" Emet-Selch ducked slightly, barely avoiding the wad of icing that had been flung in his direction, even as he snickered and closed the distance, working to undo her coat. She let him, watching the astrologian as he silently made his way across the kitchen and set a hand on the counter on either side of her. 

Her grin faltered, only insofar as it turned into a somewhat softer smile when he shifted back and leaned down to brush the tattooed side of his face against her knee. He wasted little time in turning to press his lips against her flesh, mouthing at the lightly scarred flesh there before his tongue came out to deftly lick the icing free of her skin, eyes intent on hers and narrowing slightly in amusement at the way she pinked slightly across the face to match the blush he had yet to shake. Her eyes widened slightly when he dipped his fingers into the bowl to collect some more and smoothed a line along the inside of her thigh, only to then follow it with his lips and tongue. 

The Warrior set the bowl to the side, and shrugged out of her coat so that she could haul her undershirt up and over her head. Both were tossed to the floor, and she sucked in a breath as he dabbed a path of icing up along her stomach and then cleaned it with his mouth, straightening slowly so that he could very slowly and deliberately remove the rest from his fingers in the same way. 

"How'm I wearing the -least- in this room, and somehow _still_ overheating and overdressed."

Urianger smirked, inclining his head into only the most polite of partial bows. 

"If milady wouldst thus permit me?" 

"On the condition that you _never_ call me a lady ever again." 

He let his smirk grow slightly as he bobbed his head in agreement and then reached forward to divest her of the remaining throwing knife that she carried and then pull her chestwrap free. Laying it carefully on the counter, he turned back to her and trailed his thumbs along the upper edge of her panties before starting to tease them down over her hips. The Warrior braced herself on her hands and pushed herself up somewhat so that he could get the clearance needed and pull the remaining garment free. She expected him to set it aside the same way he had the rest of her undergarments, but instead found herself going red in the face as he brought it to his face and taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly. 

"Well now, I would be lying if I said that was not one of the more_ arousing_ things I have seen all day." 

Urianger tilted his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder towards where Emet-Selch was draping the last of his clothes over the back of the chair with one hand, slowly palming himself with the other and licking his lips. Making his way over, he reached out to pluck them free from the elezen's grasp, nostrils flaring slightly as he echoed the gesture and letting out a soft, content sigh. A pointed look back caught the astrologian's eye, before Hades tipped his chin towards the bowl of icing. 

He took the hint, and dipped his fingers into it before turning to properly face the Warrior, anointing her torso seemingly at random before she reached to tuck her fingers into the chocolate as well. Some was eaten, but a little bit was instead smeared across her lower lip even as she waggled her eyebrows at him. 

"Missed some, Riddlemaster."

"Easy enough to rectify." Came his prompt response as he tilted his head and licked the icing free, only partially paying attention to the way Emet-Selch was divesting him of his garments. As his robes fell to the floor, she wove her fingers through his hair and gently tugged him back, her free hand taking his own to smear a line of icing in a line down her torso, crossing scars before it ended just above the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. 

"_Oops._"

He couldn't help it. Urianger shook his head slightly, helplessly, chuckling quietly even as he bent to the task at hand, enjoying the way she shifted and leaned back when he finished licking the last of the icing from her torso and went further, nosing against the inside of one thigh and sliding one thumb along her folds as he cleaned the last of the chocolate from his own fingers. Pale gold eyes flit up to catch the way she _stared_ at him, flushed and intent on the way he stepped back to give himself room and then parted her folds. 

She was already wet, and he groaned out a low, gutteral sound that was echoed from a few feet away, footsteps pacing around him as the Architect sought a new angle to watch from. One finger, then two dipped in between her folds, and the Warrior sucked in a breath, eyes widening as he used his other hand to keep her folds parted, tongue coming out to tease and curl against her clit. 

"You don't... You don't waste _time_ do you."

He smirked slightly, mouth otherwise occupied, and Urianger's eyes partially closed as she threaded her fingers through his hair. She broke eye-contact with him, glancing away to where Emet-Selch lingered and watched, hand moving slowly along his own length and then back down at the elezen. 

"Y'know, I'm pretty sure he wants you. If you're willing, 'course." 

"Of _course_ I do. An ass like that?" Hades tutted quietly, before pacing closer and reaching to turn her face towards him, stealing a brief kiss before tilting his head to watch the way Urianger was slowly curling his fingers within her, seeking, teasing and drawing a shuddered breath from the Warrior. "We already came to an _agreement_ for this." 

"Just like you came to an agreement about-hn... ambushing me with cake?" Her brows furrowed as she canted her hips slightly, trying to focus on both of them and falling short of the mark. 

"-Please-, you enjoyed that."

"I did-" She sucked in a breath, and licked her lips as the elezen drew away and straightened, glancing at the Ascian who quirked a brow in inquiry.

"Now?"

"Now." 

"Eh?" The Warrior blinked as Urianger stepped away, heading out of the kitchen. She gave Emet-Selch a somewhat confused look before acking softly when he scooped her up and turned to follow. They found the elezen sprawled out across the bed, waiting for them and idly licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Twelve, if this is some sort've 'reward' for him doing good at whatever the seven hells you were doing earlier-"

"Oh for the love of... _No_." She felt more than heard the way the Architect rolled his eyes before setting her on the edge of the bed and sprawling out next to the astrologian. "We thought perhaps you might enjoy a _show_. A little _entertainment_ with exclusive rights to do... Well, whatever you fancied. You like to _watch_, after all." 

"... Alright, you've got my _attention_." The Warrior blinked at the two of them, clearing her throat as Urianger pushed himself up and accepted the small vial of oil lubricant that Emet-Selch handed to him. A generous amount was poured into his hand before he laid back down, working his hand along his neglected shaft and hissing a breath quietly out from between his teeth. His fingers dipped lower, one circling his entrance before pressing in as the Architect propped himself up to watch and accepted the bottle back. "So... What was the agreement, then?"

"What should happen in the event that you gave me permission to _touch_." The tone was idle as the Architect poured himself a measured dollop of the lubricant before starting to slide his fist along his length, swallowing lightly as the elezen rolled and moved to straddle his waist. "If you had not, this would have gone _much_ differently."

"And this isn't... It's not neither've you wanting me to touch too?" She failed to do more than subdue the note of insecurity that had crept into her voice, earning an amused look from both on the bed.

"Nay. Thou art encouraged to partake as is thy wont. Both of us wish to err on the side of caution, however, and ensure that thou doth not feel as though we wish to push you into a situation or position thou might find untenable. It was thus that we decided upon being thy entertainment until such time as thou so chose to do more than simply watch." 

"We thought perhaps you were still somewhat uncertain about _touching_ the elezen, and sought to alleviate that factor." The Ascian added, propping himself up on his elbows to tilt his head at the Warrior. She looked thoughtful, turning the words over in her mind before chuckling quietly and shifting along the bed to kneel beside Urianger. 

"Only proper communication wi-" The astrologian was cut off by the way she took his head between her hands and pulled his mouth down to meet her own. She drew back after a moment, grinning and nodding towards him. 

"I _literally_ got off watching him jerk off while another of his vessels ate me out and two more _touched_ me. I _like_ to watch. But I also like to touch, yeah? As you were, I'll take the rest of my pleasure as I will."

The elezen swallowed slightly, before nodding and lining himself up. The Ascian's hands settled on his hips, slowly pulling him down and letting out a slow breath as Urianger sank down a little bit, and then pushed himself up only to repeat the gesture. The Warrior shifted slightly, watching as inch after inch disappeared, until the elezen had settled all the way down with a bitten back groan, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"You should have prepared yourself more." 

"Quiet. T'was my wish to prepare in the manner that I did 'ere I took you." 

"He's allowed to worry. But I'm gunna need a bit more info on what all that... Means, y'know? I mean I clearly _saw_ what it meant, but..." The Warrior cleared her throat, glancing between the two as Urianger slowly rocked his hips and then shuddered. One hand smoothed along his cock as it twitched, and Emet-Selch licked his lips as he _ohh_'d softly and then cleared his throat to answer. 

"'Tis a matter of friction. Lubricant and stretching are the two main methods to ensure such is painless, but _someone_ decided to be a filthy little _deviant_ and seek a little bit of that good burn, didn't he." Chest expanding as he drew in a deep breath, the Architect watched as the elezen slowly lifted and then sank back down, picking a slower pace than he might have otherwise and leaning back slightly while Emet-Selch kept his hands on his hips to help keep him balanced. "It occurs to me, that you do not _know_ why this is a thing that might be sought." 

"Not between two guys, no." Smiling faintly at the admittance, she shifted where she knelt and weighed her options. She could go and kiss Hades. She could go and kiss Urianger. Decisions, decisions...

"There is a gland called the prostate that-Ah, there it is." A smug smirk curled the Architect's lips upwards as Urianger's breath caught, and he shuddered as Emet-Selch shifted his hips as if to get a better angle and then snapped them up abruptly. The action drew a low moan from the elezen, who released his length to better brace himself. 

"_Slowly_, Twelve curse thee...!"

"Your Twelve have no power here." Hades let his smug tone gain an amused lilt before he glanced to the Warrior, who was trying not to laugh. "Truly, the results speak for themselves." 

"They really do. I almost wonder though, what would happen if you did that while I went after his ears." For all that the comment was mild, it had Urianger snapping open eyes that had drifted closed to glance at her. He looked down at the Ascian, and then back to her as she shrugged and shifted to wrap an arm around him from the side and press a kiss against his shoulder. "Really, only one way to find out, right? The proof is in the doing. You'll let me know when he gets too close, right?"

"Of course, little Monster."

She grinned, and the elezen couldn't decide if he was in for a _bad_ time, or a _good_ one.

She spent a great deal of time mapping his body, learning what he liked and what he didn't, guided by a mix of the small tells that gave him away and quiet, hoarsely whispered direction. Through it all, he smoothly lifted and then sank back down, never knowing when the Ascian would buck up against him to send him stuttering as he - likely deliberately, Urianger thought to himself - glanced along that sweet spot within him, avoiding direct contact. They both very nearly brought him to completion twice, and the second time Emet-Selch had snapped his fingers. The elezen had found his forearms drawn across his lower back, aether binding them together to prevent him from laying hands on himself and bringing himself to completion. 

His ears were _decidedly_ sensitive, and the Warrior seemed to utterly enjoy the way a light nibble or nip here and there would have his hips bucking as the sensations went right to his cock. Which didn't exactly go unattended either, with how she had smoothed a hand down his stomach to follow the trail of fine hair down and then wrapped her fingers around his width to pump in long, smooth strokes in time with the motions of his own hips. Minutes blended together, and he found himself approaching completion for the third time before he grit his teeth. 

The denial he had expected never came. Instead, his shattered ability to focus caught the edge of the way the ambient aether shifted and the Ascian did instead, bucking upwards and slamming rapidly and repeatedly into that bundle of nerves that had him arching his back. Teeth found one of his ears and he lost himself to the tide of pleasure that surged through him, painting his release across the Architect's stomach and chest before he sank into a boneless and exhausted heap, trying to gather his wits. He was dimly aware of being moved, of something cool and wet being moved across his skin before he roused enough to find the Warrior using a damp cloth to clean him up. She gave him a relaxed, easy grin, pupils still blown. 

"Hey, it's alright. That was a _hell've_ a thing to watch. I didn't know you could _make_ those sounds." 

"I return, bearing gifts. Well, _a_ gift." A very naked Emet-Selch stepped up onto the bed and then settled next to him, propping him up somewhat so that he could drink some of the water from the cup in hand. "I blame _her_, you know. She incited me."

"I wanted to know what would happen."

"Well, now you _know_." 

"Besides, he was _clearly_ starting to get exhausted. If I'm gunna be doing this with both've you, that means I gotta take both've your well-beings into account. He's not like you, mister 'physical sensations are something I can distance myself from to make myself last as long as I want if the fancy strikes me'."

Urianger smiled softly, closing his eyes as a body tucked in on either side of him and a blanket was draped over the three of them. The conversation was idle, lacking venom, and he hummed out a quietly amused sound at the way Hades heaved a dramatic sigh. 

"Yes, well, you _slapped_ me with your arousal, which renders that technique rather _moot_ now doesn't it."

"Shut up and help me make sure he's comfortable, alright?" 

"Yes _dear_."

The astorlogian drifted off, content and warm, sated and feeling like things might just turn out alright after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of some backstory and catching up to shake off the rust.  
I fly back tomorrow afternoon, so no idea when I'll be back to writing properly. Should only be a few days more at most!

She was bored. She was new (to the best of everyone's ability to remember) to the Scions, and he was the most _reclusive_ person of them all. She couldn't _not_ tail him. 

He never even noticed she was there, or so she felt. 

The Warrior was better at sneaking around outside, where she had room to move and flee and use height to her advantage by way of rooftops, but that wasn't to say she couldn't tail someone effectively from indoors as well. It just took a bit more planning, and a lot more tries. It helped, that he was a creature of habit and had a routine that she could learn piecemeal. 

She learned the first part of his morning pattern within two weeks. From there, she would watch down hallways, engaged in idle conversation with others in the area as she mentally marked the way he would always exit his rooms, turn left, and head down the hall. He only missed this once, and she still didn't know why but it hadn't been enough of a deviation to truly matter. Instead, she situated herself to catch the next bit of his morning path over the next handspan of days, and picked it up piece by piece. Never following directly, no that was the best way to get caught and spook him. 

And he _was_ easy to spook. Moenbryda had been proof enough of that. The Roe was _incredible_, a mountain of a woman with fire in her veins and a mouth fit for sassing and laughing. She had startled him by lunging out from around a corner and wrapping him up in a hug and the Warrior had been forced to turn back and amble away lest she blow her cover by way of laughing at the startled intake of breath and way the elezen hissed and pleaded to be free. 

_(She had **liked** Moenbryda. That, she thought, might have been part of the problem. There wasn't enough to hate.)_

The upshot of it all was that she learned he would bath every two days, always kept himself covered to the point of ridiculousness, pulling his hood down and constantly wearing goggles. She was fairly certain that all the robes he _owned_ looked like shapeless bags with a shawl attached to a hood. He was tall, he was thin, and the way he spoke utterly baffled her. 

He was a mystery wrapped in an engimga caught up in a... In a... She didn't know. But that was the point. She _didn't know_, and that made her _want_ to. 

Nobody ever had their guard up in the bath. There wasn't a chance in hell he would be able to keep _secrets_ while being mortified. It was the day he ambled out of his rooms with a spare robe and towel slung over his arm. She snuck into the bath before he got to the hallway, and hid herself in one of the lockers. Nobody else would be in the baths. He had it down to a science. 

He also, apparently, used the locker that she had chosen to hide within. She grinned at him under the mask, and he simply stared at her through the goggles, fully dressed and with his towel slung over his shoulder. 

"'Ello."

The locker closed. She rolled her eyes, before blinking as the lock clicked. A gentle rattle tested and confirmed that he had, in fact, locked her inside it, and by the time she unlocked it with a few pieces of wire she kept on her in lieu of the proper picks she couldn't exactly reach properly, he was gone. 

It was bad luck, she told herself, and decided she would plan better next time. 

* * *

She sat, very still on the couch, and _thought_ about it.

Hades and Rafail both stood in front of her. Manufactured physical twins, a Gemini concept, one with dark violet, almost black hair that looked brown in certain lights and a white streak, and the other with white hair and a dark streak that matched the primary hair colour of the first. 

Oh, there were pros and cons to the situation, that was certain. She had known Hades for far longer, of course, but his head Enforcer had long been a good friend. That she had caught him masturbating in one of the gardens was all well and good. That the dove that had idly been sitting nearby had informed her of what, exactly, he had been saying was somewhat of a _problem_. 

Not a big one, really. Grouped relationships weren't unheard of, but considering their civilization had no need of the act to breed, that just made it all the more animalistic a thing. Persephone liked to think she understood animals fairly well, all told. It was a natural urge and impulse. It was... 

Flattering? 

Sort of. 

_Weird_, more like. She had wondered what the hell he was doing in the garden alone and snuck as close as she could to try and figure out _what_ was going on, when the ambient area had filled her in. It had been her startled sputter that had alerted him to her presence, and he had snapped his head around to stare at her through his mask, eyes wide as she picked up and _ran_. 

Of course, she hadn't mentioned it. Two days later, and she caught the edges of memories from Hades about a _conversation_, and then Rafail had tendered his resignation. Which led to them in the apartment, one seated on the couch and blinking at the other two as they silently conversed back and forth. Both of them were worried, though her Lovely was rather more irritated than anything else. 

"Raf, you absolutely do _not_ need to resign." Both sets of winter-gold eyes turned towards her, and she shrugged slightly. "The clear answer is simply that you spend less time around me. This too, shall pass. It may pass like a _kidney stone_, but it will pass." 

"You think-?" The Architect paused for a moment, before sharing a glance with his Head Enforcer, and quirked a brow back at the Botanist as Rafail cleared his throat. 

"I tried that. Over the past thirty years, we averaged the amount of time that I spend in your presence and compared it to the average of anyone not directly associated with your district. The answers are clear, although I would very willingly hand off our research to you so that you might run the numbers yourself."

Eschaton stared at him, and then looked to Emet-Selch for confirmation. 

"'Tis true. The day you found him in the raspberry brambles was barely a week past a decade. It is an _honest_ feeling."

Oh. _Oh._ That... Made things easier, if she dared to hope. She felt her cheeks heat up beneath the mask and reached a hand up to scritch at the geometric design across the forehead. It didn't help, and so the Botanist let her hands drop into her lap and shrugged. 

"I have no problem with the theory and concept thing, provided it _remains_ honest. I find myself _incredibly_ aware of the free will of each individual thing."

"Just... Like that. No trial, no space needed, no test run...?" Rafail did no such thing as _fidget_, but he did clasp his hands behind his back and eye her with a faint frown behind his mask. 

"Look, I have known you for centuries. You have been a steadfast support, and I long since naturalized and acclimatized to your constant presence. I have no issue with you. Physical looks are not something that determines my ardor. You are _intelligent_, wickedly fun when you have a mind to. I would liken the affection to that which you might find in a pack of wild animals, where the current mate cycles or is multiple cherry-picked from a group but some might find that irksome." She let a smile bloom across her face at the way Hades huffed. "I'm not saying jump into bed with me right this second, but I am saying that I am open and supportive of the idea. I want you to woo me properly."

"Properly?" The Chief of the Architect's Bureau blinked at her, and Eschaton pushed herself up from the couch, gesturing vaguely at the air in front of her.

"I am fond of sweets. I have one heart-shaped cake, courtesy of a wonderful baker." She gestured to Emet-Selch, who folded his arms and tutted as she gestured to Rafail next. "Now, here is another, offering a second. While I am glad to have two cakes, one of them put in a fair bit of effort to win a place at my table. I refuse to diminish his efforts by making it _easy_ for you." 

Rafail looked thoughtful at that, and nodded slowly.

* * *

After three months of fruitless attempts to catch him at an inopportune moment, she simply resorted to breaking into his rooms while he was -supposed- to be asleep. 

He was not. 

By the time she finally clicked the locked door to his rooms open, he had hauled a large, stuffed armchair around to face the door, brewed himself a new pot of tea and arranged himself in the chair as if he was a proper host. A pale yellow light hovered nearby, shedding dim illumination and casting his hooded face in shadows that were echoed by the tall stacks of books that were just... _everywhere_. 

She stepped in, closed the door behind her and blinked at him as he finished his sip of tea and set the cup carefully aside on the table that sat to his left. 

"Protector of the Light." 

"Expecting someone?"

"Thyself, certainly. No others. I hath expected this meeting for many moons." The elezen carefully folded his hands in his lap, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Such was foretold."

"Right. Prophecy. How'd it tell you this plays out, then?" The Warrior grinned slightly, tucking her hands on her hips. "Some dramatic battle?"

"Nay. Thou hath proven most adamant and devoted to thy cause and course to catch me unawares. To dissuade thee from further notions of shenanigans, I shalt simply give thee the information thou seeks, but before I needs must request thy oath of secrecy 'pon this matter." 

"Alri-"

"_Swear_ it, Warrior of Light, bearer of Hydaelyn's Blessing. Swear it 'pon thy name." Urianger leaned forward in his chair, and she blinked at him before heaving a sigh.

"Alright. I swear that I won't let anyone know about what happened in this room tonight." 

He studied her, before briefly inclining his head. Both hands came up, pushing back the hood and revealing medium length grey hair and long ears. The elezen hesitated for a moment, before settling his hands on the band for the goggles. They were removed next, and she froze as she stared at the winter-gold eyes that held her effortlessly in place. 

_Oh no_, some part of her went. 

__The Warrior stared silently for a moment, thankful for the mask that covered her face before she turned and exited the room without a word.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally just tiny snippit bits that I spat out over the course of day two of still shaking off the rust. This is also mostly (selfishly) for me, so that I can get this little niggling bit out of my brain. Might expand on it later. Might not. We shall see.  
I refuse to count this as today's chapter. It's just an infodump, after all.

He haunted her dreams after that. Gold eyes that _watched_. She avoided him as best she could, because every time she looked at him she could see Moenbryda wrapping her arms around him and it made her feel... odd. Sick, like she shouldn't eat. It took her a long time to realize that these feelings were _jealousy_, and once she had that part figured out she had an easier time of managing it. 

Shame then, that it was shortly (for her) after that she locked eyes with him across the battle field, standing with the Warriors of Darkness. 

The Warrior simply stared, stupidly, and later would have been thankful that her mask covered her face. Her world had flipped itself on it's head once more when, as one of them drew their weapons his hand came out to stop them. She hesitated, before shifting subtly. 

_("Leading us the long way, so these fools could step in and claim our prize?" The Elezen's eyes narrowed at the accusation, and he had looked directly at her.)_

It wasn't much to go on. It never was, for all that it felt _right_. It was only compounded by the way he _lingered_ after. 

Pale gold eyes still haunted her dreams, but for other reasons from that point onward. Eyes that lost their light as she carved through a robed torso as if it was paper. Eyes that smiled at her, even as she danced the fine line between actual combat and making a show of it. 

How narrow the gap, between actually fighting and keeping his cover? 

The Warrior stared at the stars from her perch on a rock, and worriedly wondered at the depths of her trust.

* * *

"Killing the Warrior of Light, on the other hand-that would _soon_ plunge Eorzea into chaos. One life for one world. A fair exchange, wouldn't you agree!?"

She paused, and almost laughed. 

When the magic broke her chains, she didn't even have to look to know it was him. Relief washed through her, the part of her that never _really_ trusted feeling foolish while the rest of her relaxed. He was impossibly dramatic, and it fit him in ways she hadn't thought it might. Everything from the cadence of his voice to the way he drew a tome and held it made her want to giggle uncontrollably, for all that she stifled it. 

That enthusiasm was altered somewhat by the way the Warriors of Darkness just... Stood back up. It made her feel a kinship with them until it was full on stated that they were ghosts. Not the same as her, then, for all that their Echo had looked to work the same way in the fight. 

She was somehow disappointed, but still followed Urianger's directions when he called out to her. She trusted him. She tucked a hand against her chest, and invoked the missing element. 

Truly, his duplicity knew no bounds.

* * *

She watched him, as he stood off to the side. He was dressed in his old clothes once more, the shapeless, concealing bag and goggles with his hood up. They all spoke around her, something about working together by working individually. 

He was asked to continue looking into Ascians, declined it, and then Thancred had woven his words with all the finesse of a goldsmith, guilting him into it. It was then, that her Echo picked up on what had happened in the past. Urianger had offered her as bait before them, knowing full well that she didn't stay dead, knowing full well that killing her was something that as of yet, nobody had been able to figure out how to make _stick_. She hadn't wanted to see what came after, but the intonation of Moenbryda's name struck her like a physical blow. 

She put it in a box just like all the rest, ignored it and continued on. 


	9. Problem Solving

Elidibus, recovered as he was, had little to no trouble making an excuse to go off and disappear for a little bit. For all that the moon of the Thirteenth had been his personal sanctuary, he would have been a fool if he never had a back up plan. Emet-Selch had the right of it, when he called him a _worrier_. 

He was also incredibly patient, and just like many others had a hidden Vault of his own. Every smart snake had their own, secret burrow. Sealed beneath rock and stone and, after one of the calamities, solid ice as well he made his way to the smaller, perhaps less grand residence he had cleared out for himself. The rest of the world was blocked off as he shifted through the woven layers of protections that he had long since laid down, and smiled faintly as he felt the familiar, if tainted, presence of his Guest.

She was still hard at work, practicing endlessly as she had been bid to do. Secreted away from the world to try and determine where, exactly, the Warrior of Light's strength came from. What, exactly, the soul might truly be capable of doing. Thus far, considering they were a single stolen fragment that was bloated with Zodiark's power and by far the weakest of all of them there hadn't been much of an expectation for great things from the start. She had been a placeholder, an experiment and an attempt to see what might happen. 

Nothing had worked. They had ended up with an amnesiac that could complete only the simplest of tasks, looked down on and scorned for the actions of her original. Even Emet-Selch had hated her, hated the mockery of the thing she had been, of what she had stood for and meant. Over thousands of years, what stood before him now was a desperate, defeated creature that was trying so, _so_ hard to redeem herself for failures she could only scarcely comprehend. 

The Ascian rounded her shoulders, kept her gaze on her feet and bobbed her head in greetings. 

"Paragon Elidibus."

"Altima. You have been dutiful, with your practice. Show me."

Like a beaten animal, she turned and raised her hands, holding her palms out towards the dummy, and then gasping as the Emissary flooded the room with his aether and choked the life out of her. Her aether twisted in his grasp, one last ditch effort to break free, to _live _before giving up. Surrendering, accepting her fate and going with no more than a quiet whimper into the endless dark as the fragment of her soul dissipated back into the lifestream, presumably to be shunted back to the Eleventh shard where she had been sifted free from.

He smiled softly as he stepped forward to catch the body that limply sagged back into his arms. It didn't take long for him to haul her over his shoulder and make his way into his study, where a chunk of red crystal was pressed against the wall. He tugged the hood back and removed the mask as he pressed the smaller body into it before he stepped back to study the similarities in the expressions that marked identical tanned faces, framed by silver hair. Two sad smiles. Two wistful sets of steel-wrapped blue eyes.

"One plot resolved, a dozen more to go." 

He sighed, before turning and making his way to the exit. 

* * *

The Warrior woke up first. She didn't know whether to be surprised or not, considering she had done the _least_ amount of work. Urianger, though, seemed to be sleeping deeply where he was sandwiched between the Ascian and herself. As for the Architect... 

She didn't bother to hide the smile that worked it's way across her face at the sound of the quiet snores that were partially muffled by the Elezen's shoulder. He needed the sleep. For all that he tried to keep up, ancient immortal beings tended to need to take things a little slower than the pace she set. For all that he had only _once_ asked her to, in not so many words, slow down a little bit she thought he was holding up _remarkably_ well.

_Her boys_. The thought sat contently in her chest like an old friend, for all that nestled up to it was the guilt of Moenbryda's death. She would have thought referring to them as _boys_ and not men might have been weird, but it... It _fit_. She felt like the three of them were Lominsan hellions, armed with lengths of pipe and glass knives. Four parts bravery, four parts youthful invulnerability and two parts adventure. She could lead them _anywhere_, and the fact that they would somehow manage rose unbidden in her mind. 

It felt like the past, come to visit the present. A truth she had sought with the very marrow of her bones without knowing it. Like a patch of air she had been leaning on that was suddenly properly filled. A sense of home that she had caught the edges of when she had looked over to find Emet-Selch - no, to find _Hades_ \- leaning out around the corner of an alley with a water balloon in hand, aimed to pelt the Crystal Exarch as he exited one of the shops.

She must have shifted slightly, because the soft snoring faded and the Architect's face scrunched as his aether gently tickled across her. 

"... Stable still. Good. T'was not my intent to drift off like that, and lose my grip over your Blessing, little Monster."

"I only just woke up, don't worry. No Echo flashes, I'm still pretty solid. Which reminds me." She kept her voice just as soft as Emet-Selch kept his, smiling in the darkness. "I want to try the thing."

He cracked an eye open, and she blinked as threads of molten gold lit up within it and focused on her. "You _do_ realize that, coming from you, 'the thing' is _spectacularly_ vague and could be very nearly anything, correct?"

"I meant fixing my sick, but more importantly what'd you do with your eyes?"

"Hmm. I adjusted the composition to include a-... I gave myself the ability to see in essentially pitch black darkness. Aether-sight notwithstanding, 'tis particularly dark in my rooms. The only ambient light comes from the strip along the upper edge of the walls, and such is generally barely luminescent." The Architect sighed softly, before shifting and lifting his hand from her hip so that he could cup the side of her face. "Which _does_ remind me. I meant to ask how well you could see in such lighting."

"I mean, I can make out your general shape, Urianger's general shape, the four posts of the bed and all. And your eyes. Twelve, that looks just... _gorgeous_."

"Naturally. I was pleasantly surprised to think _you_ thought so, however. I did not necessarily, at the beginning craft this vessel to look what might be considered _handsome_."

The Warrior snickered quietly. "You _are_ though. Incredibly expressive eyebrows, a nose perfect for a variety of things, and-"

"'A variety of things'." He couldn't quite help the amused scoff that escaped him, and tutted even as he tapped her nose and moved to prop himself up on an elbow. "_You_ simply enjoy it because it means when I, as you so eloquently say 'put my mouth to a good use' I can nuzzle your clit at the same-"

The elezen between them shifted, a soft sound of curiosity shifting through the air between them as he drew in a deeper breath before rasping out a few, nigh unintelligible sounds of inquiry.

"Y'know, talking actually works better when you actually _move your jaw_, yeah?" 

"Mmm..."

The Warrior snickered quietly, shifting one hand to brush the back of her knuckles idly against the side of a bearded face. "I s'pose I can make breakfast today. You've got time to rest yet, Uri."

* * *

They agreed that the process would take time, or at least the Architect said so. The elezen wasn't quite coherent until he had a cup of tea in his hand and was stretched out on the couch, and even then he seemed more bonelessly content and liable to doze back off than he was to add anything to the conversation. This left her sitting on the floor with her back to the couch, Emet-Selch seated cross-legged in front of her and trying in vain to get her to _focus_. 

Let it never be said that the Ascian was incapable of being patient. 

It was so much _harder_, outside of combat. The Architect went through a variety of different ways to try and get her to turn her attention inwards, to consciously direct something that had always been born of necessity and instinct and ran so much smoother when it was reactive to some immediate _need_. He picked apart the problem, applied every solution from meditation to an attempt to mix the sensations with physical ones and only when she started to fidget so much that she woke Urianger back up from his impromptu nap did he finally sigh and call for a break.

She felt bad for Emet-Selch. She really did. He looked tired by the end of it, and she excused herself from the rooms to go for a walk and clear her head. She was surprised to find Elidibus also roaming the halls, and blinked as he rounded the corner and stopped abruptly before offering her a soft smile and polite nod. 

"Eschaton."

"Emissary, it's... odd, to find _you_ just wandering about. Teleport machine broke?"

"Not quite." The soft smile twitched ever so slightly larger, before he gestured back the way he had come. "I just returned after finishing some business elsewhere. I have kept busy for most of the day, and thought to avoid the inevitable verbal thrashing of the other Paragons should they come to realize I am, as they might say, overworking myself by taking a brief break. But enough of myself, you seem restless."

"Yeah. I'm... Tryin' to focus but it's hard when I'm not moving 'round or in combat? But what I've gotta try and do, t'do so in combat would be _really_ stupid." The Warrior offered the white-robed Ascian a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of her head as he tilted his head to the side. 

"This must have something to do with what Lahabrea mentioned. He said you hold a fragment of the Doom within you." 

"I do. I'm s'prised though that you're not seeing it and backing away." 

Elidibus hummed softly, and then shook his head. "It is rude, to stare so closely at the aether of another. Emet-Selch often ignores this, but he is also often considered borderline rude a great deal of the time. Regardless, it seems to be loosely contained, and provided nobody directly touches it we Ascians should be safe enough. Although, the Architect must be desperate indeed and believe he will lose you otherwise, to risk himself so. If it infects him, a Paragon, it will make his greatest fears manifest."

"His greatest fear is losing _me_." She shrugged slightly, before turning and beckoning for him to amble along with her. "That's what we're trying to fix, though. As Eschaton 'parently I figured out how to fix it, in bits and pieces. But to do that I've gotta sit and focus for it. And that's the hard part."

"If I might make a suggestion?" The Emissary clasped his hands behind his back, keeping pace and tilting his head slightly as she gestured vaguely for him to continue. "Try it while your husband plays the piano. Music, I find, is one of the greatest focus aids one could ask for."

"That's a thou-wait, How d'you know he can play the piano?" The Warrior turned slightly, blinking at the genuine smile that curled his lips upwards as he shrugged slightly. 

"Once, long ago, I taught him the basics."

* * *

"While you were away, I struck upon an idea." 

"Nice. While I was out Elidibus had an idea too. You first, though." The rogue perched on the edge of the couch, glancing at where Urianger was still stretched out and now reading a book. Emet-Selch huffed from where he was re-sorting the books on the shelves and rolled his eyes. 

"Oh _no_, you first. I _insist_. What _wisdom_ does the Emissary hold for us today." 

She didn't bother to stifle her snicker and quirked a brow over at him. "Y'know, I could probably set someone in fire with the greaser-levels of sarcasm you just used. He suggested you play the piano, though." 

The Ascian paused, humming thoughtfully. "I am still _quite_ cross with him about throwing the way I missed your reincarnation in my face. Music is not a _horrible_ idea, I will admit. However, I thought perhaps something more akin to your spin dance."

"Wouldn't that be distracting?" The Warrior frowned, head tilting as she reached up to rake a hand back through her hair as she thought about it.

"We hath determined that an utter lack of distraction is thy shackle, so to speak. Without the ability to perform some level of activity, thou art simply at a loss. T'was a blended conversation, of both this and what might allow thee to rest." The elezen tucked a bookmark into place, before turning enough to peer up at her and study her for a moment as Emet-Selch picked up where he left off. 

"Precisely. We decided to put into motion a series of tests to determine where, _exactly_, you gain the most focus for the least amount of stimulus. Thus it was that we put our heads together and devised a list of the little things we both have seen you do to keep yourself occupied. You tend to your gear, drink, although that last one is nigh unnoticable now, considering how much you have cut back."

"Thou dost tend to seek to keep thine hands busy with small tasks, and art possessed of a kleptomaniac streak nigh a malm wide." Urianger frowned faintly, hesitating before patting his side in invitation. She shrugged slightly, and shifted from the arm of the couch so that she could tuck up on the edge of the cushions and partially drape herself over his torso and legs. "Which, unfortunately, shalt not work for what we plan considering constant scavenger hunts would likely prove too distracting."

"You chew on the inside of your cheek, too. But I digress we are, alas, _marginally_ off topic now. Your alchemy falls under the same parameters as scavenger hunts, as would most pranks unfortunately." Shelving the last of the books, the Architect drifted over and leaned down to prop his elbows on the couch and eye it critically. "... I need to get a bigger couch."

The elezen and the rogue both nodded in agreement, before the astrologian continued. "Which led us to consider the arts, in which thy talents lay the playing of the lute and some minor skill with a paint brush. Both of which are potential possibilities but simply too _vague_ for thy current task." 

"To which, we went on a tangent to other variables, such as the environment." One gloved hand lifted, fingers flicking upwards as Emet-Selch listed off a few alternatives. "Rooftops, precarious perches, somewhere that you can feel the wind and the world drop away from under you. Or, alternatively, grasses and trees. Perhaps a dock somewhere, reminiscent of Limsa Lominsa."

"I was gone for, what, half an hour?" She peered between the two of them, baffled as they both shrugged, one without bumping his shoulder against the arm of the couch. 

"Problem solving, little Monster, is what we both _do_. Try not to forget that, next time." 


	10. Chapter 10

The three of them settled on the highest point of Azys Lla in two groups. There was the Architect, carrying Urianger as if he was a bride and silently rolling his eyes at the white-knuckled grip the elezen had on the front of his coat, and then there was the Warrior. 

She climbed it, like the gremlin she was. It was during this time that she was reminded what 'altitude sickness' was. Not because it did anything to her, as her mask drew enough air for her to breath normally, but because Emet-Selch mentioned that it certainly was a good thing he had prepared for just such an occasion and tried to distract the astrologian with what that feature of the mask he had made did. When asked, through grit teeth, as to why it wasn't happening to _him_, Urianger received a sarcastic answer along the lines of who, exactly, he thought he was talking to. 

"As if I would simply _let_ any such nonsense happen." 

And then he tutted, and tapped one foot to the spire he had drifted to a stop at the point of. 

"Well now, little Monster. Do you think this suites your needs?"

She whistled lowly, leaning out and lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. "That's a hell've a view. Air's sort've still though."

"Hmm." Glancing around, Emet-Selch considered his options for a moment before narrowing his eyes in focus. The moments ticked by before the barrier rippled and vanished with a soft hum, and a faint shimmer surrounded him to protect him from the wind. The Warrior was less fortunate. The wind hit her and almost tore her from the spire, and it was only a quick wrap of a leg about it that had her instead spinning around until, much like a weather vane she was stabilized at one point. 

The Ascian almost started to drift down, frowning before the elezen in his arms tugged on his collar and shook his head. 

"Look at her."

And so he did.

A grin had stretched lips upwards even as she adjusted her grip to better anchor herself and leaned to the side, hair blasted back as the momentum of the orbiting ship and the rocks it hauled along with it gave the wind more strength than it would have otherwise. But her soul... The tightly wound threads of silver unraveled save for where they were tangled up in the fragment of the Doom within her, spinning out behind Priscilla as if caught by the wind themselves. Streamers, banners almost, as they unfurled and spread outwards. Her aether swelled and shifted in response to her mood, and he could just barely hear an almost breathless bout of laughter. For all that they were up there to _work_, he couldn't help the faint smile that curled the corners of his lips.

"Oh fine. I suppose we can take a few minutes extra..."

* * *

She wasn't exactly _cured_ by the time the Architect re-engaged that part of the shield, but she had managed to weave a proper containment for it. Something not quite as sturdy as the original, but then again if he spent all his time mourning what had come before he would lose the precious seconds of the time he could be spending with her _now_. Which meant, really, that he put as much of it out of his mind as he could and accepted the results as best as he could. 

It was enough for him to work with. It was enough for him to safely apply the portrait he had repaired. It _had_ to be enough, because he considered it a miracle that it had only taken her four hours to do what she had done. 

They ate a light, if late lunch, and Urianger stretched and stiffly made his way around the Architect's quarters. Before long, Emet-Selch trundled the couch out of the way, snapped his fingers to manifest the table and pulled up a floor panel so that he could start connecting it to the main power grid once more. 

"Y'know, last time I saw you like that, I barely knew what was going on." 

He hummed idly in response, securing connections and largely focused on the task ahead of him. He missed the way she heaved a sigh and jerked slightly as she draped herself over his crouched form from behind. 

"Hades, hey, it'll be okay, yeah?"

"Easy for _you_ to say."

"You've done this once before, yeah? We both did. You _know_ what you're doing. It's not like you can forget." 

"You could practice something repeatedly for a hundred years and still, at a critical, crucial time utterly _ruin_ everything-"

"Stop that." The Warrior shifted slightly so that she was more over one shoulder than the other, rubbing her cheek against his as he tutted and continued connecting cables. "It's good to worry a little bit. You probably can't _not_ worry. But we did this to Elidibus and he turned out alright."

"Little Monster, you simply..." The Ascian sighed softly, side-eyeing her. "... Fine. You were there. I was able to guide you, and thus absolve myself of much of the blame should we have _failed_. This, however, utterly lacks that manner of reassurance or, truly, any manner of proverbial safety net beyond _Urianger_, who is still the equivalent of half-blind and who can only, at my best guess, anchor your soul should this go truly, _horribly_ wrong. Oh, and reconfirming your soul only has roughly a _twenty percent chance_ of exposing me to the Doom _anyways_. One in five. I have _killed_ for better odds."

"Y'know, four out've five is _loads_ better odds than I usually work with. Eighty percent chance? Seven hells, that's practically a _guarantee_." She pressed a kiss against his cheek as he sighed and shook his head slightly. "Look. You can _do_ this. I don't care what titles people've given you, I _know_ you. I have known you, and I will always know you. And I _know_ you can do this." 

"Your belief is admirable-"

"No. Stop. Listen. Okay, I'm doing a shit job at this, but here. Let me try again." Her arms tightened around him in a hug as she sighed. "You... Rebuilt Amaurot. You carried all of those souls, while wounded, and limped them through the astral sea to Hydaelyn. You scared off Elidibus with a canister of black rose that could have taken you down. You _built_ _Garlemald_. And Azys Lla." 

She paused, collecting her thoughts before smiling faintly. "I didn't start fighting primals as a _hobby_, I did it 'cause I had to. 'Cause there was no one else, really, that could. Minfilia wasn't exactly a _fighter_, and of everyone else with the Echo I'm the one that doesn't _stay_ dead. I contained the Lightwardens because I _had_ to. Because walking away wasn't an option. Fighting Zenos, wasn't an option. It was 'do the thing in the menagerie, or everyone's _fucked_'. You, you _can't_ lose me. Because if you do, _you're_ fucked. _I'm_ fucked. But you're not doing this alone, yeah? I'm here, and I'm damn well not gunna go quietly into the lightless dark. You've got Urianger here, and you can bet he's gunna do his damnedest to make sure both've us are safe at the end of all of this. You're going to do this, because it's a thing you _can_ do. You did it before. And because, well... failure's not really an option. Not a good one, at least." 

"Congratulations, little Monster. Not only shall I have to make sure that you are _never_ cast in any adult material due to your utterly _atrocious_ acting skills, but also that you ought _never_ be allowed to try your hand at public motivational speeches." Emet-Selch reached up to cover his face with one hand, shaking his head slightly as he wryly continued. "Thank you, for at least _trying_. For all that you managed to hammer home the stakes, I _do_ believe that I have caught your meaning."

"Good. 'Cause I'm _shit_ at feelings. But I love you, so I gotta at least try. You ready?"

"No."

She smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek once more. 

"I know. But you've got this anyways."

She stretched out on the table, and yawned idly. Urianger came up to one side, and nodded slightly to the Architect as the latter stretched and popped several points in his back in rapid succession before sighing. 

"If I become infected, you will have an _incredibly short_ span of time to shut down my aetheric capabilities."

"He won't need to." Her words drew an eyeroll from the Ascian, and she grinned up at him even as she tucked both hands behind her head. "I trust you. Both've you, really."

"You are a _fool_ to trust in absolutely nothing so easily." 

"Sounds an awful lot like an opinion. Kiss me? For luck, if nothing else." The Warrior's grin softened as he leaned over her and pressed a gentle, tentative kiss to her lips. A glance towards the astrologian confirmed his suspicion that the invitation was for him as well, and he pressed his lips against hers just as tenderly. "... Pansies. I-"

Emet-Selch growled and hauled her up by the front of her shirt, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her into a demanding kiss. Pleasant surprise radiated out from her, and when he finally let her lean back a bit she grinned at him and adjusted her clothes minutely. 

"There now. Finally, some proper fire to you. Let's get started then." 

* * *

The surge of aether caught the attention of everyone capable of sensing such in Azys Lla. For a brief moment, the world stood still as the full power of a Paragon was brought to bear, and an odd, double-thumb beat once through the air and reverberated off the shields. Elidibus, who was familiar with it, stood and cocked his head to the side as he heard it, before turning towards where he knew the Architect's rooms were. 

The moment stretched on, before Emet-Selch's aether waned and the Warrior's waxed, filling the absence and reverberating outwards. There were hints of the Doom there, and he fought the urge to flinch before he watched it smooth out and match the bluest blue that suffused Azys Lla and then receded like the tide. It bundled up neatly, compacted back down into the crystalline and silver wire shape that was so familiar to him, and for the briefest of moments he could pick out six points of aether of various colours that orbited about the core before it was lost beneath the protective layers that hid them from aetheric sight. 

"See? Cure her sick, I says." The Devourer crooned cheerfully, before nudging the Emissary. "This thing, is done." 

"So it seems to be. But I, apologetically, digress. We were speaking on the topic of agriculture-"

"Hah! No. Goes, I says." A claw came out to nudge Elidibus once more, and he sighed before lifting both hands. 

"Very well. I can see that we will make no further headway regardless until I have done so."

The lizard-shaped fragment of the Eschaton crooned out a sound that suspiciously resembled laughter, before turning and clacking their way down the hall.


	11. Chapter 11

"They are both resting." Urianger inclined his head politely to the Emissary and other gathered Ascians, standing in the doorway to partially block their view of the living room. A few of the black hooded figures shared glances, before Elidibus tilted his head and hummed softly. 

"Of course. We simply felt the surges of aether and thought perhaps-"

"Thou art well aware of the capabilities of a Paragon, and also those of the Warrior of Light. Both simply require rest." A slight, polite smile set below gold eyes met it's equally dishonest twin as the white-robed Ascian straightened slightly. 

"Of course. My... Apologies, I had forgotten just how protective of their privacy you have always been." came the murmured reply from Elidibus, before Mitron stepped up. 

"When... When should we come back?"

"Pray, give us unto the light of morn." Urianger's smile remained polite, though warmed slightly when it was aimed towards the nodding Traveler. "Such was an arduous task, and as such both Eschaton and Emet-Selch doth require their rest."

"We will return at the appointed time, then. Please, let them know." The Emissary dipped slightly into the barest of bows, smiled softly, and then turned to start slowly walking down the hall. The rest of the Ascians present fell into step with him, and the elezen watched them go from the doorway before he turned and made his way back into Emet-Selch's chambers. Door hissing shut behind him, the astrologian made his way to the bedroom and sighed softly at the two figures that he had tucked into the bed. One of them shifted slightly as a sense of _listening_ filled the air. 

"... 'Re, wussat 'bus...?"

"And the others, thou hast the right of it. Go back to sleep, my dear."

* * *

The next time the Warrior woke, it was to the unusual feeling of being _watched_, and not by winter gold eyes. Slowly turning her head, she very carefully stayed _very still_ when she came face to face with the bio-luminescent pattern that softly outlined the Devourer. For all her efforts though, Emet-Selch beside her reacted to her emotional distress, twitched and snapped his head up, aether protectively roiling through the room only for him to grumble bitterly and drop his head back onto the pillow. 

"... For the love of... I was _comfortable_..."

"Sorry. They scared the ever-living shit out've me." Her words were quietly hissed back as the Warrior lifted both hands and scrubbed at her face, heart still pounding in her chest. "What do you _want_."

Glowing rings - she presumed they were the eyes, they were in roughly the right spot - shifted to survey the rest of the bed before one of the forelimbs reached out to idly pet her face.

Priscilla... was not prepared, and for the second time in as many moments the Ascian she was stretched out beside jerked at the way her distressed emotions flared outwards.

* * *

"... It would work better, were you to use an adhesive strip and then run a line to this side of the door." 

The figure trying to stick a bucket of paint to the wall above his office door jumped, ladder rocking before tipping to the side as the newly masked Eschaton flailed. The bucket tipped, and she cursed as she tried to reach it only to slip and fall. An instinctive coil had her turning partly in mid-air, only to practically land face-first against the Emissary that had moved forward to try and catch her. They went down in a heap together, and she cleared her throat as the spilled paint - a rather vibrant shade of green - pooled wider and touched the edge of his sleeve. 

"Honoured Elidibus! What a surprise! I did not think I would see you out here." The Botanist's voice was a jovial thing, and she grinned down at him. "I had some questions about the last meeting, considering I was unavailable for it."

"Of course. The notes are on my desk." An amused smile was aimed up at her, and she chuckled before carefully pushing herself to the side and then to her feet. A hand was offered down to him, and he accepted the aid up and turned one arm to inspect the damage the paint had done. It looked almost as if he had rolled in freshly mowed grass, insofar as the sleeve was concerned. "I had heard from the previous holder of your title that you were prone to such things."

"You weathered it well, for all that it failed to catch you unawares properly." 

"One of the perks of being trained as an Elidibus." A vague gesture disengaged the wards he had raised about his office specifically to keep their newest member _out_, and he politely opened and held the door as she laid the ladder she had righted against the wall and trundled in. Each footstep left a splotch of green paint behind, and he stifled a resigned sigh as he closed the door after stepping in after her. A polite smile was offered to her as she did a circuit of his office, leaving tracks behind and sitting on the edge of the desk once she was done. 

"This place... is _really_ empty. One potted fern, slatted blinds, two pieces of art that is actually just the standard picture they sell you with the frame and one wall lined with filing cabinets. Discounting the desk with your name on it, the bowl of grapes and a surprisingly worn chair, there is nothing to indicate this is more than an empty office." 

"This is a place for _work_, Eschaton." He reinforced his polite smile, circled the desk and opened one drawer so that he could produce a notebook and then offer it out. "I formally request that you return this at your earliest convenience." 

"Oh. Right. Thanks." The Botanist accepted the notebook and then idly flipped to the back cover. A brief scan had her flipping to the front cover as well, before she frowned and looked over at him. "So, I have to ask. What _is_ your name?"

"A _highly_ inappropriate question, considering that this is our first meeting outside of any scheduled, official capacity." The Emissary paused as she tilted her head and then reached over to steal one of the grapes, squishing it slightly to confirm that it was real as opposed to a plastic prop and then popped it in her mouth.

"I just tried to prank you with a bucket of green paint. What, exactly, about me strikes you as appropriate?"

Elidibus didn't have an answer for her, and sheepishly answered with Polite Smile Number Three even as his mind started to _race_.

* * *

His wards were undisturbed, but there was just something that was _off_ about his office that had him hesitating as he reached for the doorknob. Some sense of a predator lying in wait, which, really, was why when he opened the door and stepped through he managed to muffle both his relief that nothing was out of order and his surprise when Eschaton abruptly popped up from behind his desk. 

"_Is it safe__?_"

Elidibus carefully closed the door behind him, and nodded just the once, very slowly while he tried to figure out how, exactly, she had broken into his office. There must have been something he wasn't seeing, he thought to himself. Something else-

"Good _grief_, Lahabrea's been chasing me all day trying to get me to do something. Do not ask me what, because I simply _do not know_ and _do not want_ to know." The Botanist deflated, sliding back down to the floor beside his chair, and he made his way over to crouch and peer through the open space under his desk. A quick study of the external edges of her soul revealed exasperated tiredness, and the Emissary quirked a brow behind his mask. 

"I will admit, I have noticed some... Tension, between the two of you. May I remind you that bonding between Convocation members is frowned upon?"

"_Ew_. Ick. Not in a thousand, thousand years." Her lips pressed together in an uneven line that matched the disgruntlement that flared at the edges of her soul. "Not with _that_. If I wanted someone to try and tell me what to do, I would at _least_ pick someone with an idea of what aftercare is without having to train them to the concept first."

Elidibus felt the way his face flushed at that, and tipped his head to the side slightly to try and hide it as he coughed subtly. "Highly inappropriate, Eschaton." 

"On the topic of the inappropriate, what _is_ your name? I waited a year and a day to ask you that, you have to answer me truthfully." The Botanist smiled up at him, amused as he watched her from the corner of his eyes and smiled politely. 

"Ahh yes, a custom of the Agricorps. Fortunately, as I am -not- a member of your district, this custom need not apply to me. As such, I will politely decline to answer."

"A sound theory. However, you are also the _Emissary_. Does it not seem _rude_ to ignore the customs of others?" Her smile turned into a smirk, and he hummed out a quiet sound. 

"Provided I was within the boundary of your territory, your words might hold merit. However as this is, in fact, my office and not yours I am still politically well within my rights to leave that question unanswered. In fact, you would be bound to answer my question should I inquire after your na-"

"Percy. Now it's an obligatory trade, because of the weight of this thing that has been done and I call upon the right of 'Guest's Privilege'." 

"I presume you do not mean the technical, computerized version either." A soft sigh escaped him as he sat and scooted under the desk. "I see you are unlikely to give up on this."

"I have the proverbial bit in my teeth now." Eschaton grinned as she pushed herself up and also tucked under the desk, sitting in front of him and leaning against the drawers at her side. Her face lit up eagerly as he beckoned to her.

"Very well. My name..." 

The Botanist leaned in, only for her expression to fall into a deadpan stare as he tapped one claw-tipped, gloved finger against her lips. 

"... is a _secret_." 

"Good _grief_."

The Botanist rolled her eyes, and Elidibus couldn't help the quiet chuckle that welled up out of him.

* * *

He would have had to have been a fool to not see what was going on once he started looking for it. A subtle word here, a quiet, friendly listening ear during one of the Speaker's more _broody_ moments of sullen irritation, and he had a great deal more information than he had actually wanted. _She_ was infuriatingly elusive. _She_ was difficult to pin down and talk to. _She she she_. And worst of all? _That little rat that had just become Emet-Selch was getting in his way._

Lahabrea was _infatuated_ by what he couldn't have. The newest Emet-Selch was _particularly_ adept at running interference while Eschaton was within the city. They certainly didn't seem to be joined at the hip, but any time the Speaker engineered a way for their paths to cross, he would inevitably find the Architect smoothly strolling across the pavement towards her, lifting a hand in greeting and hailing her. Which seemed impossible, considering a discreet check confirmed that it meant he was somehow, consistently, in two places at once. Until, of course, Elidibus did a bit more subtle digging and realized that at least one of them was certainly the Chief of his bureau instead. 

Of course, he didn't tell the _Speaker_ that. He could have, but watching the way Eschaton worked to avoid Lahabrea taught him a great deal about her methods and that was simply an opportunity he could _not_ ignore. No, Lahabrea would not be a problem. The problem was that _Emet-Selch_ was the one she was turning to for aid in this endeavor. Which led him to question what, exactly, their relationship was. 

Several months of polite, careful inquiries led him to some very unfortunate conclusions. 

As far as he could tell, they seemed to have known each other as children. Which _should_ have been technically impossible, but many of the times that it was reported that Eschaton's Enforcers were out in the city at large just _innocently_ walking around coincided with a number of skipped classes on the part of first the brilliant child that had eventually become the Architect, and then later both he and his Second. This indicated that the bond between them was strong, perhaps familial in nature. 

Except... 

Both Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus kept their souls tightly controlled, obfuscated by the ambient aether to the point where they both barely registered as presences. It allowed them to hide their emotions, and the colours of their souls which also allowed them to keep fooling Lahabrea with regards to which one of them, exactly, was running interference. But Elidibus was nothing if not patient and well prepared. His own Second was just as subtle and sneaky as he was, and between the two of them they managed to uncover a truth that had made the Emissary turn around and lock himself in his office. 

One, single unguarded look as they inspected one of the many parks that had just completed construction. The Architect himself had probably missed it, with the way his back was turned, but Elidibus had not. It was difficult to discern at a distance and partially covered by the mask as it had been, however... 

Emissaries _knew_ smiles. There was such a variety of them, after all. There were soft ones, sweet ones, harsh ones, all manner of ways to quirk or flatten a set of lips to convey volumes of information. There were ones that could seduce, ones that could inflame, and ones that could make the individual receiving one feel like they were barely an inch tall and deserved nothing more than to get brushed way like so much dirt on someone's shoes. The smile that had crossed the Botanist's face... 

It was soft. It was tender. It was mildly amused at whatever Emet-Selch had just said. It was a way Elidibus wished he could be smiled at some day, as if he was all that mattered in the world. 

He went to the bar after spending an hour staring at his ceiling, murdering his mental manipulations and abandoning plans. There was nothing he could do. He didn't stand a chance, and while he could have stooped to sabotage he had seen how well that had served Lahabrea and he was _not_ going to stoop to that level of impropriety. No, he decided as he paid for his latest beer and generously tipped the waitress, he could not do that. 

But what he could do, Elidibus thought to himself as a slick, oily smile crossed his face, was set himself up as an ally in the event that the current Architect _did_ royally screw up somehow. He may not be able to have her, but that was fine. One day, Emet-Selch would not be there, and she would rely on him instead. 

One day.


	12. It doesn't matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Wistala  
Elidibus' perspective when he finds out Eschaton and Emet-Selch are Bonded, and his view of the events that led up to it.

Emet-Selch raised a hand, idly waving it at Elidibus as the Emissary called for any final matters that might need to be brought to the attention of the Convocation. 

"Actually, there _is_ something I would like to bring up." 

Pushing himself to his feet, the Architect rounded the table and took the floor, giving his white-robed co-worker time to get back to his chair and sit down, mentally wondering what it could be. A moment of silence passed before Emet-Selch lifted his chin and folded his arms. 

"Convocation members are generally dissuaded from forming relationships with other Convocation members. This, is an immutable fact. The reason why is also clear to see. It may lead to a bias for particular topics." A smirk curled the corners of his lips upwards, before he turned towards where Eschaton straightened slightly. Narrowing his winter gold eyes playfully, he fished a pomegranate out of his pocket and ambled over, almost casually offering it out to her and enjoying the way she sucked in a slight breath. "I find that I simply _do not care_. I love you. I have loved you. I will always love you. Will you bond with me, my dear?"

The Emissary felt the point when his smile vanished. It was immediately after the way everyone had sucked in a breath, and exactly the instant before Lahabrea surged to his feet, shouting when the Botanist stood up and deftly plucked the pomegranate from the Architect's hands. She clambered up onto the table and dropped down next to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a careful kiss, minding both of their masks. 

Someone was restraining the swearing Speaker. He was mildly surprised to realize it was him, having moved to intercept Lahabrea as he had started over the table himself as a handful of the others shouted words that never registered to the Emissary. No, he was transfixed by the way Emet-Selch stooped, scooped Eschaton up and walked out of the meeting room with a kick that threw the doors open. Once they were gone, the room remained loud, with conflicting opinions being thrown into the air until Elidibus could take no more of it. 

He triggered one of his Secrets, and for all that he spoke quietly everyone else in the room shut up and looked at him. He was tempted to lace it with another, but settled for simply being heard for the moment. If they continued, he could always try again, after all. 

"We will reconvene at another time. In light of the current situation, I call an end to the current meeting. You are all dismissed."

Lahabrea looked at him from where he was in a partial headlock, and as he was released he adjusted his robes, sneered, and then turned to storm off towards the doors. In ones and pairs, the rest filtered out to leave him in the now empty room that echoed with the memory of the words that had been shouted.

_"HIM!? You picked HIM!?"_

_"Is... Is that even... Allowed?"_

_"We all know it was frowned upon."_

_"How could you!"_

_"Throwing tradition out the window, these days!"_

Elidibus sat back down in his chair, eased his mask from his face and raked a hand back through his black hair so that he could push his hood down as he did. So, that was it then. They were, officially, going through with it. Any chance he might have had, gone. For all that he had resigned himself to waiting, he hadn't expected either of them to be so brazen about it. No, he had thought that the snarky, sassy, borderline insulting Emet-Selch would have shot himself in the foot by now. 

Sighing, the Emissary leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, mask loosely tucked against his chest as he wove his fingers together. He hadn't expected it to _hurt. _Well, he had, but not the way that it did. He thought he would have been more angry and less disappointed, or... something. He wasn't yet certain what he felt, either. Only that he had a tight grip on it, just as he did every other emotion that had or would ever suffuse him, and that he really needed a drink.

Or a smoke. By the Star, he hadn't smoked since immediately before becoming Elidibus. Nicotine would be _divine_. Even the lower quality stuff that he could simply create. Tucking his mask back into place, he hauled his hood back up and made his way to the elevator, taking it to the roof. Everywhere else was simply too far. _One_ wouldn't kill him, and it was a simple matter to disperse the smell-

He pulled out Easy Smile Number Seven when he caught sight of Lahabrea pacing irritably and schooled his featured accordingly. He would have simply gone back down, save for the fact that the Speaker snapped his gaze over and scowled at him. The quiet sigh of resignation that built within him died a merciless death as he breezed out of the elevator and came to a stop at the railing, overlooking the city. 

"Emissary."

"Speaker."

"And what do you make of all this? Surely, you can see how this is a horrible idea."

"I admire the fire you tackle most situations with. However, I believe this one requires a more... Delicate touch." He was privately proud of the way his voice remained utterly mild and unruffled, even as he settled his hands on the railing. 

"Neither of them will _listen_ to anyone-"

"Do you want," Elidibus interrupted the black robed convocation member, earning a glare, though he continued regardless. His fingers twitched slightly, and he fought the urge to create one of those shitty, cheap cigarettes he had _lived_ for, centuries ago."To disrupt this because it is a matter of causing biased opinions, or because you feel the fool for not being able to Bond with her yourself."

"It's the _principle_ of the thing! No Convocation members have Bonded while currently engaged in active service to our city in _generations__! _The last time that it happened was between a Mitron and a Lohgrif, and both stepped down the moment they were able! These two- These- Emet-Selch and Eschaton have yet to serve a full term!"

He couldn't see the Speaker, but the Emissary could practically feel the way Lahabrea was gesturing angrily, even as he continued pacing. He allowed a soft sigh to escape him, and leaned a little further forward. "They are both intelligent, brilliant young people that have decided they are happy together."

"Who are so incredibly _stupid_ as to become infatuated with each other-" 

There was a practiced ease, with which Elidibus tuned out the Speaker's rant. Why was he defending them, he wondered. Conversely, what drove individuals of greater learning to froth at the mouths like animals? Of everyone in that room, he realized, Igeyorhm and Emmeroloth had both been rather neutral. Puzzled, but neutral. He hadn't been able to get a good view of everyone else, but of those that had seemed upset by it, they were _men_. Hmm. A thought to file away for later...

"-And it just _baffles_ me that either of them could be so-"

Ahh, he could remember the shape and how it fit so neatly between his fingers. He rolled his own, after a while. It was certainly cheaper than paying for papers or creating them constantly. He could remember the smell, the taste, the way it would settle through him. Even the lighter, a simple little flint and steel contraption with a small reservoir of fuel in the bottom came back to him clearly. He had built up a callous on his thumb and forefinger, using the cheap, shitty ones. But they reminded him of the small town he had been born in, and so even centuries after he had left it and come to the 'big city' of Amaurot, he still sought them out. In fact, he still had one, carried on his person for luck of all things.

"-dibus? What are you doing?" 

The Emissary lit the cigarette he had Created with the lighter that he had pulled out of thin air, a remembered movement even as he tucked it between his lips so that he could set the lighter down on the railing, precariously balanced.

"It doesn't matter. Go on."

* * *

He could have _laughed_ when the building started to rumble ominously. The lights flickered, glass windows cracked, and he glanced about idly as the rest of the Convocation members froze mid-debate as the building physically _shook_. Nobody had volunteered to champion the 'for' defense, regarding the impending Bond between the two absent members which meant it had fallen to him. Instead, he calmly reached into his pocket, pulled out a cellphone and dialed the one person that might have known where both Eschaton and Emet-Selch might have been even as he cupped the other hand over an ear to try and hear the individual that had picked up on the other end. 

_"Hythlodaeus speaking."_

"I will be brief. Are Emet-Selch and Eschaton somewhere nearby?"

_"The Architect and the Botanist? Why yes, I believe they are, Honourable Elidibus."_

"How fortunate. It appears they are missing a meeting, and I would ask that you allow me to speak with them." 

_"Hold please, while I go and collect the Architect."_

Elidibus waited patiently, tugging his hood further down as dust sifted from the growing cracks in the ceiling while everyone else ran for the stairs. He kept an almost placid pace as he trailed behind them. Would Emet-Selch destroy the building? Maybe. Possibly. Unlikely, he theorized, with Eschaton in presumed proximity. There were other people there, which meant that he would, if nothing else give everyone ample time to evacuate first. 

_"Ah, Elidibus! I hear we missed some manner of a meeting. How **unfortunate.** It seems both myself and the Botanist missed the memo."_

"Emet-Selch. Yes, unfortunately it was called on... Particularly short notice. Many of the Convocation members disagree with the- Pardon, hold on a moment." The Emissary stepped carefully over the door that had fallen from it's hinges, and then resumed picking his way down. "Many of the Convocation members disagree with the final matter you brought up last night. They wished to discuss the matter. I was certain they attempted to call both of you, however such things get lost in the shuffle."

_"Are we playing the polite game, then?"_

"I have several flights of stairs left. As is my job, I was called upon to champion your side of the debate. I feel secure and safe in the work of the Architect. I am certain that nothing bad will happen to me as I manage to make my way down the eastern stairwell." He let himself smile slightly at the amused huff from the other end of the call, and the way the building rocked and shook eased somewhat. "I, personally, do not care what happens to the building, provided it is repaired in time for the next meeting." 

_"I was thinking that Eschaton and I could **shake things up**, and go for a vacation. Take some time off, let the matter settle."_

"I highly doubt you are asking for my permission."

_"Look at that. Every inch the intelligent Elidibus that I have come to know. No, We do not need your permission. But we **do** need someone to put out fires for us."_

"I expect to be compensated at some point in the future, however is this job not better suited for your Chief of Staff?"

_"It would be, save for the fact that he is coming with us. What type of Emet-Selch would I be, if I left the city without at least one person in attendance?"_

A dead one, if Lahabrea failed to corral his temper and had anything to say about it. Eliduibus simply hummed conversationally. "Very well. I will reiterate, however, that both yourself and Eschaton will owe me for this."

_"Yes, yes, if nothing else I will remember it and remind her should such be required. In the meantime, I believe this small, localized earthquake has very nearly come to an end." _

The Emissary settled Polite Smile Number Two in place across his face, and stepped out onto the road where the other Convocation members stared at him, he building behind him slowly rumbling into stillness. 

"Of course, Honourable Emet-Selch. I will see you after the honeymoon."

_"Taa~."_

The call disconnected, and he folded his hands behind his back and pondered what the best way to break the news to the others might be.

* * *

He thought he had it under control by the time they came back. Emet-Selch was the first to return, and because of how he kept his soul tightly wrapped to himself it was easy to ignore what had happened. Everything was, thankfully, kept professional with a few pointed comments from Emmerololth but otherwise there was nothing amiss and it ended on time. 

He was just exiting the building when he caught sight of Emet-Selch staggering under the impact of what appeared to have been the Eschaton, and the Emissary _froze_. That hue of impossible, bluest blue that he had yet to ever catch hidden in the slightest, _brightened_ at whatever it was that the Architect said. Contentment and happiness rolled off her in waves, and he quickly turned away and headed back into the building. 

Amaurot was an incredible city. Everyone worked hard to make sure there wasn't anything like a slum, and for those who lacked the Creation magic to simply make whatever they might need it was more often than not simply provided for them. Paid services were reserved for anything grown or hand made, as such things tended to be of a higher quality, but overall nobody wanted for anything. Really, all that meant to Elidibus was that he had to go to the sub levels where people felt safer when they hid. 

He knew what he was looking for. 

It wasn't hard to find it, either. Not for a man of his talents, especially when coupled with a plain grey robe and a white mask he hadn't worn in centuries. it was still chipped slightly on one side. His trip took him all of an hour, and by the time he returned to his apartment he had everything planned out. 

A window was cracked. His supplies were laid out. He mixed a half and half of tobacco and marijuana and leaned back with his lighter in hand to enjoy the way everything _eased_. It didn't matter. They were Bonded, now.

_Nothing_, mattered.


	13. Ochu Oof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For koosei.  
*sips drink*

The Warrior had seen a great many things in her time. Most of them because she had no choice. The memories 'lifted' from Elidibus were one of those. 

She didn't know what to think or feel about it, which really meant that she ambled aimlessly, ran, wandered and climbed things as she worked through her thoughts. The remnants of the feelings attached to those memories made her sad, 'specially when she compared them to what she could recall of the conversation in the... Bar? Party bar? Where they sang. Where Eschaton had worked to strengthen the bonds between the Convocation members through the simple magic of 'if you get to know someone, you might like them'. 

Elidibus had caught the _feels_. But he had, seemingly, not only overcome them (until the last five years? Twelve, how long ago _had_ that happened?) but also attributed them to one of the Eschaton's Secrets once he had figured it out. The timeline was a bit fuzzy. She felt like the singing bar happened after they had bonded, but couldn't be sure. It wasn't like they just went around with clocks and calenders hanging on the walls, everyone just seemed intelligent to know when something was booked or set to happen and did what they could to make it.

The Warrior thought about the reason he had been spared, and frowned. Had Eschaton known? More or less, it seemed. She could vaguely taste the faint notes of pity when she thought about it, though it wasn't nearly as bad as when she thought about Lahabrea. 

Bleck. _Thoughts_. She was doing too much thinking again, and not enough _doing_. But, then again, what was there to currently do? They both needed to rest before they could go to a Shard and try and carve out the souls from Zodiark. Which, really, she thought was the current plan. She didn't steer the boat, she just stood at the bow and waved her swords around when she needed to. 

But what about the Shards themselves? 

The Warrior grimaced, grumbling as she scampered down along the side of the floating rock. And paused. Ohh, that was a cave she hadn't exploded yet. A smile split her face as she picked her path, discounted the ones that would probably get her killed and scuttled along until she caught the edge of the opening. She crawled inside only to be greeted to the sight of the cave opening up into a twenty by twenty by ten room that was utterly filled with some manner of ochu, all of which shifted into awareness at her intrusion of their home.

"Aww hells."

* * *

Emet-Selch was not, by nature, a worrier. Not usually. The instances where he might actually do so were strictly tied to the well-being of one little Monster and, he would admit with a sigh if pressed, Urianger. They were the two people who mattered the most to him, after all, although the Warrior had worked hard to change this. As such, the Ascian was nigh constantly caught in a state of _'should I care?'_ and more often than not tried to err on the side of caution. If the thing in question held the vaguest semblance of life, at the very least it must not be destroyed. Bonus points if it was something she interacted with regularly. 

This was why, although he had initially reacted to Priscilla's startlement when the Devourer woke them up with a manifestation of his aether, he had swiftly subdued it and tried to go back to sleep with mixed results. He dozed, he drifted, he responded to the quiet 'Goin' for a walk' with a hum and rolled onto his other side to act as the 'big spoon' for the slightly taller elezen. It wasn't a particularly deep or restful time, but he was relaxed and content. If the Warrior encountered something _dangerous_ on her walk, well... she knew how to get his attention if she needed it. The Architect had done everything he could to ensure her continued good health and he was _tired_, damnit. 

Bells passed, not that Emet-Selch was paying that much attention to the passage of time, and Urianger slowly roused. There wasn't much of a coherent conversation between the two of them, considering the astrologian simply felt around for a moment and then made an inquisitive sort of noise that was answered by a half-assed brush of reassurance from the Ascian's aether. They both returned to simply enjoying the physical contact between the two of them, reluctant to get up and face whatever the world had in store for them. 

Still, if nothing else they needed something for breakfast. Eventually, both of them reluctantly got up and started about their morning routines, squinting at the light that streamed in from the balcony window. Breakfast was toast and for one of them coffee, for the other tea. From there, they spent their time lazing about, reading books or otherwise tinkering with the odd thing. 

Lunch came and went, and Hades felt his mouth curl into a frown as he caught himself reading the same page for the second time. Glancing towards the ceiling, he extended his senses outwards and found the tiny speck of himself that was bound to the Warrior's forearm. Still within the boundaries of the barrier. Oddly stationary, for the relatively low elevation he registered it at, but maybe she had found some shady perch to take a nap in. He shrugged slightly, and looked back down at his book. 

"I can knock down one of the walls and put in a study. There would be more than enough room here for whatever you have in your rooms, if you would be so inclined." 

Urianger paused his perusal of the bookshelves, before smiling softly. 

"... Thou art too kind. If our paramour doth not object, such shall be done."

"I _hardly_ think she would. She seems far more comfortable with the arrangement now than she did at the beginning, after all." A hand was idly waved through the air before Emet-Selch turned the page. "She should be back soon, provided she isn't napping. Our little Monster tends to always find her way back, after all, and she's not that far out anyways."

* * *

For all that Emet-Selch was _not_, by nature, a worrier he was finding it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand as he dried the plates he and Urianger had used for the evening meal. Several periodic checks over the last bell or so had confirmed that the Warrior had yet to move. Which was... Odd, the longer it went on. Stillness didn't come naturally to her, which suggested sleep. She was alive. Her aether a mix of frustrated and resigned when he focused on it with undertones of something she was actively trying to smother, which he thought had been because she was trying to sleep and failing. 

She _did_ have a habit of missing meals... 

Still. It was behavior that ever so slightly deviated from what had become the norm, even if it was only due tot he fact that she was seemingly trying to rest elsewhere and not with himself or Hythl-Urianger, he mentally corrected himself. The Ascian sighed, and set the towel down as he leaned against the counter. 

"Thou art concerned by her absence as well."

"Our little Monster seems to have remained in the same location for the entirety of the day. Oh, there are _several_ reasons as to why this might be which range between cloud watching to attempting to nap, however... 'Tis passing strange, the altitude she lingers at is in one of the lower quadrants." Emet-Selch glanced towards the coldbox, before straightening and adjusting the towel on the counter to make sure it wouldn't fall off. "Shall we bring her something to eat? Knowing her, if neither of us were on hand to ensure that she has, 'tis likely she did not."

The astrologian nodded, and started rifling through the cupboards for containers they could use.

* * *

It would pass, she told herself. It would _pass_, it _would_ pass, _it_ would _pass_. The Warrior found herself rubbing her thighs together and glared sourly back towards the dead ochu-like plants that she was pretty sure were responsible for what had happened. It had been _interesting_, sure, for the first hour. Maybe even for the second, which had come with increased sensitivity but less so after that. Once more her mind turned towards her boys, and she physically slapped herself to try and recapture her focus. 

Twelve, but she was _thirsty_. She thought about sneaking back into the main complex once more but discounted the idea when she thought about who's paths she might cross. The last thing she needed was to jump the bones of whatever Ascian or, seven hells, _crellbron_ she crossed paths with. She squirmed in place once more, and resolutely folded her arms. No, it would wear off. It _had_ to wear off. Nothing was permanent. Maybe she just needed to sleep it off. 

Maybe. Thus far any attempts had resulted in very short, vivid dreams that had her starting awake and grinding against the ground, desperate for friction. She had tried everything she could think of, and yet... 

Well. No matter. She had devoured all of the jerky she carried with her and drank both the alcohol and the water she tended to pack around which, really the first one might have been a mistake. She had been part of the way up the outer edge of the rock before she realized she was buck naked and that this was _probably_ not a good idea. Which meant that she sat there after a half-hearted effort to get dressed had her instead sitting on her pants with her coat loosely draped about her shoulders to protect her back and butt from the stone floor and wall.

A faint hum of a rift came with the setting sun, and she froze as she glanced out to where she could see Emet-Selch floating in place, holding Urianger against his side with one arm and carrying a basket with the other. 

"Little Monster, there you a-"

Two sets of pale gold eyes blinked at her, one widening as she blinked back and looked them both up and down approvingly. Whatever else the Architect had been about to say seemed to have died in his throat, and she seriously considered the distance between them, struck by the urge to put her fingers in his still open mouth-

The Warrior shook her head, and cleared her throat despite the way she wanted to squirm in place. 

"Look, I, uhh... This... Is probably a bad time." 

"What... Didst thus occur?" Urianger leaned slightly, trying to peer past her to the interior of the cave and glancing back at the Warrior as she lifted a hand. 

"Don't... go in there. It's, uhh... There was some ochu-lookin' things that were purpleish and glowed in the dark. Aaand I killed them." She shifted slightly, swallowing dryly and licking her lips as she eyed the way the elezen's robes hung about his frame. "Twelve. I think I need a cold shower. It's been stifling hot in here all day."

"You... Oh for the love of..." A look of mental pain crossed the Ascian's face as he closed his eyes and tried to sort through the long list of possible 'ochu-looking things' that might have been the culprit. "You could have _called_ for us, instead of sitting _naked_ in some cave, poisoned with who _knows_ what manner of substance." 

"I mean, I'm _pretty_ sure I've figured out what it does. Gave me a-A fever. Yes. And nothing more. Please don't touch me, it might be contagious-" She tensed as a cool ripple suffused the air about her, a rift opening and dropping her onto the couch before a second one opened near by. By the time Emet-Selch and Urianger drifted out, she was already in the bathroom and had both closed and locked the door behind her. Water. She might be able to flush it out of her system that way!

"Why are you attempting to drown yourself in the sink." 

The Warrior jumped slightly, thumping her head against the inside of the sink even as she sputtered and choked on some of the water she had been drinking straight from the faucet. Turning around, she coughed to clear her throat and the Ascian was _right there_, brows furrowing as he studied the way she flushed and pressed back against the counter. Eyes narrowing, he leaned in and then smirked as she licked her lips slightly and gripped the counter tighter. 

"Bioluminescent, you said? Hmm. While I cannot say that I know all of the experiments that went on in the Allagan empire, I can confirm that there was a fair bit of _debauchery_. It seems you must have run afoul of some remnant of such. When did this start?" 

"I, uhh... You're _really_ close. Um. This... Morning?" She wheezed slightly as he huffed and straightened, gesturing towards the tub. 

"And it has lasted this long? Persistent. This means there are several methods with which to cure this. Excessive time, considering I have no idea regarding the dosage nor duration, though which you will be miserable. I could stick you in an tank and determine if there is a way to cleanse such from you, although I do _not_ recommenced such for your temperament. Or..." Stepping away, Emet-Selch watched as she scrambled past and hustled down the steps into the walk in tub, reaching for the faucets. 

"Or?"

"I have noticed an _unusual_ trend you seem to have developed. You watch, you squirm, you enjoy and partake yet by and large avoid your own completion. Why-ever might that be? I noticed it in bits and pieces over our rekindled relationship, but it only seems to have grown more commonplace." Shifting to lean back against the counter, the Architect tilted his head as he watched her, privately amused by how she simply remained red to the tips of her ears. "You see, I have this _sneaking_ suspicion that you seem to have gained some odd notion that you needs must 'take care' of us. Which, quite honestly, could not be _farther_ from the truth."

"I don't know _what_ you're on about." She made the water as cold as she could stand, and grabbed a soap at random, already starting to lather up in an attempt to rid herself of any of the remaining pollen that might have clung to her. She didn't have to turn around to know that he had shifted to the edge of the tub and settled down at the edge of it, considering she could hear the way he fluffed out his coat and skirts to make it settle properly about him. 

"I rather think you do. When we absolutely ruined Urianger, you proverbially shoved me over the tipping point and I _distinctly_ recall that you were left wanting and instead immediately left to go and get supplies for clean up. Shall I dip further into our sexual escapades and continue to recount the times you have done this thing?" Hades frowned at her, propping an elbow on his knee and resting his chin atop his palm. "... Is there something we are doing wrong, he an I? Are we not enough? Too much? Is there something we could do _better, _perhaps?" 

"I seriously think this is the -worst- time to have this conversation-"

"I disagree." He quirked a brow as she twisted, glared at him, dipped her gaze down to his lap and then scowled as she turned back to the task of scrubbing herself vigorously. "'Tis directly tied to how if we are to wear you out, so to speak, and burn through the rest of whatever duration is left of this temporary affliction then we needs must know wherein the problem lies."

"_That_ was your 'or' situation? Look, if I'm gunna enjoy sexy-times with the two've you, I'd much rather do it because I _want_ to and not 'cause some plant farted on me."

"Eloquent, as always." Emet-Selch's tone dipped wry, and he huffed out a soft sound of amusement as he watched her dunk, rapidly rinse, and then surface so that she could push her hair out of her eyes and start searching through the small collection of bottles for something for her hair. "Have you considered that your refusal to do so _might_ be what has extended the duration past reasonable bounds? The Allagans, while they were largely a technological experiment, were also advanced manipulators of aether. Nothing strictly _physical_ has worked, I would presume, and as I have been given time to study you I _have_ noted some small irregularities."

"If it's aether based I can just do the thing I did for the doom-sickness." Tilting slightly so that she could scrub at her hair, she tried not to think about how closely that meant he was _watching_ her, and shuddered at the thought of it. 

"Do you _really_ think you could muster anything even remotely resembling the concentration you would require to do so?" Emet-Selch quirked an eyebrow at her, before glancing toward where the door flickered and simply ceased to exist for the ginger second that the astrologian quietly hustled through. "You don't have to do everything alone, you know. You _do_ have us."

"And what if it-?"

"If thy next words are thusly to imply that we would be anything other than lucky to be able to work through such a scenario with thou, then truly, ne'er shall I think thee aught more than a fool." The warrior paused, before turning around to squint at where Urianger was idly toeing the water, grimacing at how cold it seemed to be. A glance towards the door noted that it was still closed and locked, and the lack of aetheric hum of a rift opening left her blank as to how he had gotten into the bathroom. The elezen glanced to the Ascian, who huffed.

"Don't look at _me_, 'tis far too cold for my tastes. A Garlean lifetime of cold showers in the military rather soured me on the concept for the time being. _My_ plan was to ambush her once she was out."

"Seven hells, look, I'll be fi-whyareyoutakingoffyourclothes." The Warrior hunched where she stood by the bottles, before blinking as Urianger waded past her and pulled the plug to start draining the cold water. "Hey! I was using that."

"If thy concern is some residual effect of this ochu pollen, then thou must needs fret not."

"I don't think I must needs do a damn thing, be it fretting or not fretting. I-" He turned to face her, and she swallowed reflexively as she was treated to the full view of him. He quirked a brow, as if to invite her to continue, and she worked hard to keep her eyes on his face. "That's just _cheating_." 

"Mayhaps." She focused on his lips as they quirked into a soft smile, voice pitching low and pulled at something within her as he dipped his head as if to nod politely in recognition of that fact. "'Tis merely my wish to recommend a hot bath, instead of a cold one. Relaxation shalt do far more for thy emotional, physical and mental well-being than thine attempt at the opposite."

"I can _take care_ of _myself_." She folded her arms, resolutely ignoring the thought of what his clavicles would look like covered with bruises that matched the shape of her lips. 

"Naturally. But as thou art ne'er truly alone any more, thou needs not. Pray, permit us tend to thy wants and whimsy." 

The Warrior stared at him, and then looked over towards where Emet-Selch had shifted to start running proper hot water for the bath and threw her hands up in the air, one part exasperated and two parts amused and resigned.

"Seven hells. I don't stand much've a chance between the two've you, now do I."

"You _could_ always clearly and directly say no. 'Tis the utmost truth that both of us would respect your wishes if you truly did not want this thing. However, I am _quite_ certain that even if you were not currently afflicted with an altered state of mind - which you are, surprisingly, _acutely_ aware of, which is something I will have to dwell upon later - you would be rather willing to have one or both of us prop you up on the edge of the tub and have _some_ sort of way with you. Urianger?" The Ascian glanced over to the elezen, before nodding towards the drain of the tub. "If you would."

"I hate that you're right."

"I know, my dear."

* * *

Hades pushed himself up from where the tub met the floor, leaving the water to run as he did. He could feel the weight of the Warrior's gaze as it settled on him, and lifted one hand to his mouth so that he could use his teeth to, a finger at a time, tug first one glove off and then the other. Each hit the floor quietly, the sound covered by the rush of water, and he glanced up from them to smirk at their little Monster. Urianger had shifted to stand behind her and had stooped enough that he could deftly get the last of the shampoo out of her hair, though periodically kept tabs on the Ascian's progress. 

Well, Emet-Selch was nothing if not fond of the theatrical arts. 

His clothes had many layers, considering Garlemald had always been a cold nation. Each one was shed slowly as he took his time, limiting his smoldering glances at the Warrior to shy, brief things that met her eyes and then darted away. Layer after layer fell to the floor until, finally, he wasn't wearing anything else. 

The Warrior swallowed dryly, goosebumps pricking along her arms as a shiver went through her. Arms came around her from behind, gently, and she idly noted the contrast between the way the elezen hugged her from behind and the ascian did. One was possessive, almost desperate to remain in contact while the other was... Soft. Gentle, as if she was a piece of art. Patient, but the longer contact was maintained, the more she leaned back against Urianger, the more of his strength he put into the gesture. Slow, tender, as if afraid she was going to startle. 

She barked out a short laugh as she reached up and carded her fingers through his hair. Yes, _startle, _on reflection that described it quite well. She hadn't given him much reason to think she might to otherwise, she realized, and tipped her face up to grin at him. 

"I'm not made've glass, pretty-boy. As much as you've worked on it recently, I'm pretty sure you're physically the weakest here. You're not going to _hurt_ me." 

Pale gold eyes narrowed slightly, and the elezen glanced towards Emet-Selch as if for confirmation as the Architect waded in and turned the faucet off with an idle wave. 

"'Tis simply too much technical variety to whether or not either of us could hurt her that anything I say one way or another could be seen as both true and false. But I digress. _You_ waded into absolutely freezing water, which means to the victor goes the spoils. For now-" The Ascian paused for a moment, an easy fix crossing his mind and thusly getting filed away for later, before smirking and reaching out. An idle tug pulled the Warrior from Urianger's grasp so that he could turn her around and put her back against his chest. A little bit of mental math had the measurements for the correct heights, and she let out a mildly surprised sound as he stooped and scooped his arms around her thighs, lifting her as if she weighed next to nothing. Her eyes were wide as she somewhat awkwardly reached back and gripped at his biceps, torn between the pointed reminder that he was physically stronger than her and the distraction of the slow flex of the muscles under her fingers. "Fret not. I shall not drop you." 

Whatever she had been about to retort with was lost to a moan as Urianger closed the gap, two fingers tracing along the outside of her sex before slowly sliding in with a quietly obscene, _wet_ sound. The next one was swallowed by the elezen's lips as she shifted her grasp from the Architect's arms to reach out and pull his face to hers, and she shuddered at the way both of them groaned. One because of the view, the other because of the way she tugged on his hair and broke the kiss to nip at his lower lip.   
  
"Twelve, if we're _doing_ this then we're _doing_ this. Put your hands to better use and _physically insert_ something a bit more appropriate, will you?"

"As thy command dictates." A wry smile was offered to the Warrior before he idly shifted his fingers along his own length before teasingly nudging the tip between her folds. "Art thou-?"

She dropped her hands from his face to his hips and _pulled_, drawing a deeper groan from the elezen and a quiet curse from the Warrior as she pressed back against Emet-Selch's chest. "Fucking... _Fuck_, Uri, seven hells stop _hesitating _and _move_!"

It was the closest she had ever come to audibly begging, and the Ascian shivered at the way her aether danced and underscored her crumbling restraint. It was _intoxicating_, the way she was finally letting go of the iron-clad grip she had barely maintained over herself, and her head tipped back onto his shoulder as Urianger flushed faintly and obeyed. A twitch of aether had her turning her face towards the Ascian's, and he devoured the needy, whimpered out sounds that the elezen was determined to pull from her. 

It wasn't as difficult as she would liked to have admit, a full day of _wanting_ without reprieve regardless of what she tried leaving her sensitive in a way that should have been painful. Drugged by the ochu pollen as she was, every sensation, every inch of him within her held most of her focus and felt magnified beyond belief. She tried to shift or rock her hips to meet his thrusts, but Emet-Selch simply chuckled into the kiss and held her practically immobile against him with a mix of his arms and aether. 

She was struck by the realization that he didn't _need_ to hold her with his arms, and didn't even bother to choke back the moan that spilled from her lips. A turn of her head allowed her to properly suck in a lung full of air before she reached to tug Urianger's face to hers and lock their lips together instead, muffling her cry as the Ascian nipped at the column of her throat. The elezen's hands settled on her at last, one against her hip to better anchor himself and the other tucking against the side of her neck opposite of where the Architect was busy raising harsh, red marks. 

When the Warrior came, she was certain she saw _stars_. The astrologian cursed and pressed their foreheads together as he froze, eyes closed as he focused and fought to keep his composure as she clenched around him rhythmically, shuddering and taking deep, slow breaths as she fought and failed to do more than minutely wiggle in Emet-Selch's grasp. Slowly, she relaxed only to grimace and growl in frustration. It was still _there_, that itch, that _need_, and she reached up with both hands to scrub at her face, voice hoarse. 

"Seven hells...!"

"It was always a possibility, little Monster, and half of the reason I let him go _first._Besides 'tis clear he has yet to reach his own finish." The Architect's voice was a smug purr in her ear, and she swallowed dryly as Urianger hummed out a sound of agreement. "We have... Quite a bit of catching up to do, I believe."

"You don't owe me a _damn thing_. Neither of you d-" Her breath caught as the elezen slowly, carefully started to move within her once more, drawing out a groan as she bordered between _too much_ and _not enough_. 

"We know. In this, thy relationship with us lacks a scorecard. But 'tis a convenient excuse to determine what manner of sounds we may yet draw from thy lips." 

Priscilla swallowed dryly, before shuddering as she caught sight of the truly smug smirk that had settled across the astrologian's face.

* * *

Emet-Selch had insisted on a water break somewhere between rounds four and five, which was how the elezen came back after a brief break to find both of his lovers seated on the couch, the Warrior straddling the Ascian's hips and leaned back so that he could hunch enough to get at her chest while she ground downwards in small circles. Urianger had even had the bright idea to bring some snacks; small things, like the strawberries he had found in the coldbox and a jar of honey that he generally used for his tea. He offered one of the former to her, and she leaned enough to take a bite of it right out of his grasp. 

"That thou art able to reach some manner of peak is a certain sign of improvement. Thine efforts within the cave failed to bring thou to completion, after all."

"That's tnnn..." The Warrior trailed off when the Ascian released her breast and kissed a trail up along the side of her throat, breath ragged. Urianger smirked slightly at the way the Architect's aether was woven through hers, and was treated to the view of them both toppling over the edge together as she hissed and arched her back further. "_Hades~!_"

"Five." Cheekily, Emet-Selch kissed her on the nose as she groaned and fought to catch her breath. "You seem to be over the worst of it now, however. 'Tis by and large cleared from your aether. I would _insist_ on one more however. Simply to make _sure_, of course."

"R... Right. 'Cause _that's_ why. Mhm." She grumbled as he leaned back and took her with him, resting back against the arm of the couch and tucking her against his chest. A subtle shift freed him from her, and a slight tilt of his hips ensured they both were comfortable. "I can't feel my_ hips_..."

"Allow me." Urianger passed the tray off to the Ascian before slowly, idly tracing his hands down her sides to rest them on her hips. A faint shimmer followed his hands, and she groaned as some of the bruises began to fade before pausing. Slowly, she straightened and squinted first at the Architect as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing and then at the astrologian. 

"... You could've Esuana'd this shit out've my system three Twelve-be-damned hours ago." The elezen looked thoughtful, before folding one arm across his torso to cup his elbow and bring his other hand up to his chin. She didn't quite buy it, but instead ever so slowly turned back to where Hades was trying hard not to laugh, shoulders shaking and lips pressing together into a thin line. "You... You _knew_ that."

"I thought... I thought it might be a _possibility_-"

"You _asshat__! _I could've- You- THREE FUCKING HOURS!"

"You _enjoyed_ them!" Emet-Selch raised his hands defensively, hunching as she tried to decide if she wanted to laugh or hit him. She settled on neither, instead folding her arms and scowling.

She _hated_ that he was right, and if nothing else it was solid proof that it didn't matter what she needed, both of them were determined to be there for her through it.


	14. A stitch in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may not like this chapter.  
It's been floating around for a bit, but I never really... Posted it, because of a lack of courage. Really, the tempered!emet-selch was supposed to be -this-, but... Then I chickened out.  
But y'know what?  
It's too involved in the things that happen, and I've been assured that it's not -entirely- unreasonable.

It was over. They had won. Hydaelyn had been burned out of the planet, the Warrior of Light was never to return, soul shattered irreparably and fed to Zodiark as part of the fuel to bring back everyone. It even worked, to a degree, though it still felt like being alone in a crowd. Nobody _remembered_. The incoming doom was forestalled, the laws rewritten and stable. 

Amaurot stood once more, and she fairly _gleamed_ for it. 

The apartment was... _horribly_ empty. 

_ **<<Hearken and Obey.>>** _

The Ascian immediately dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor, feeling the weight of the restored Primal's focus reverberate through him. 

_ **<<What doth thou yet hide from Me.>>** _

A question without a question. He thought of a flask of alcohol tucked safely inside a false bottom drawer. He thought of a hundred pointless little things, offering them up, knowing down to the marrow of his bones that it was not enough. He felt the ponderous way that Zodiark rifled through his memories, and pondered at just who had contributed that Secret. The Primal demanded his love, crunched through the washed-out memories of his love of anything else as if it was so much gravel along a walkway, and then finally withdrew. 

The Ascian sucked in a breath, rattled and trying to gather himself once more as he shuddered and then dragged himself to the one place he felt he might find some semblance of peace. Rebuilding it with the city had been _reflexive_, something he had done with barely a thought. It wasn't the same, though. It lacked _her_ touch. 

Still, while he was there, for a time... he could _pretend_. 

It wasn't enough. For all that he was Zodiark's creature, there persisted that single oft-stomped on ember that refused to fully go out. He had considered tearing his part of the Bond off of his soul, letting himself simply die, simply _End_, but no. Every time he considered it he _hesitated_, and he recognized it as the same uneasy inability to act that kept his Vaults secure. 

The last time he had gone there, it had been to secure a body that had choked on more Black Rose than had seemed possible before everything finally came to halt. A bit of rope and several throws had finally hauled the discoloured body clear of the fog, and after interring it he hadn't looked back. That had been barely three centuries ago, and now... 

He stared at the pond, and rubbed his chest where the faintest of twinges bothered him as he watched a pair of frogs hop about in the mud. The twinge was all that remained of the near physical ache that he had been left with after _her_ final death. He thought, perhaps, that it had only stuck around so long because of the passive Secret he had inundated himself with, but no. That would have been a lie. _That_ had worn off before the fourth calamity.

No, he was just a _fool_. 

Something glittered at the base of the tree, and he frowned at it before making his way over to investigate. Reaching out, he frowned at the bird skull, eyes inset with chips of sapphire, and habitually reached for the Wisdom of those Passed to see what memories of flying he could tease from it, and-

And sat down heavily, reflexively curling his soul tighter about himself and barricading his mind. How many times had he come here, to that garden, to find the very same item? How many times had he regained the vivid, colourful memories that he had ever so carefully combed through from the corpses of Garleans and hopefuls? Countless. His own memories were added in, periodic moments of him quietly talking to himself, recounting theories that he knew he would forget, that he would _make_ himself forget. He could, he realized, by taking another of his Secrets and _strangling_ it until he bled from the nose and woke up, dazed and disoriented and thinking he had had nothing more than a bad dream.

The Tower. Every path he had followed looking for the damn thing was a dead end, save for _one_. All of the information regarding it's disappearance was _gone_, destroyed by his own hand, corpse and book alike as he poured it when he started to think he might have _had_ something into that silly little bird skull. The Ascian could feel his heart _beat_, inside his chest, and almost choked on the way hope stuck thick in his throat, burning his eyes as it suffused him. 

No _wonder_ the Primal thought he was hiding something. Of _course_ that tiny ember refused to go out. He was, and he kept _feeding_ the damn thing. A call to save the world had turned up nothing more than despair, but a call to save one particular individual...

He clutched the skull carefully to his chest, and bowed his head in thought so that he could pick up where he had left off last time with his theory-crafting.

* * *

The problem was, it would require a _lot_ of energy despite how he had refined it over the last decade of stolen moments. He found his source in the most _ironic_ of places. He'd had it the entire time.

Standing in the center of his Vault, he didn't bother to double-check his preparations. He knew he had done so for about a week before realizing that he was _stuck_ repeating the same 'final action' that he had set for himself. He didn't have much time to work, and hustled down the staircase before making his way through the wall that led to the chamber full of crystal pillars that housed _her_ remains. Each one was preserved in a pillar of crystallized aether. 

The Ascian began to cast. 

The first link was easy. The Crystal Tower was, after all, something of a _beacon_ meant to draw aether towards it and store it. As one, _her_ remains and each of the crystal pillars dissipated and flooded him, the brief surge drawing the attention that he could _feel_ settling on him like a heavy cloak, but he just had to bear with it for an _instant_-

That instant, became eon. Expanse contracted. Two points of Zodiark's focus met. One whole, reaching, searching, gouging to try and learn, to try and understand and the other briefly brought to a semblance of completion and _beyond_, roused from His torpor already moving to relay commands before the connection fractured. 

The Ascian hit the ground, _hard_, groaning and slowly pushing himself up. About him stood silent pillars of familiar crystal. For a moment he feared that he hadn't succeeded at all, and waited for the inevitable way that Zodiark was going to tear into his mind... 

... And waited...

... And slowly pushed himself off the ground, a silly little grin pulling the corners of his lips upwards. 

First things first. Step one, determine what _year_ it was. Step two, find out where _she_ might be. It turned out that he had arrived a little earlier than expected. He clutched the tiny skull trinket carefully, re-wove his form into something more... _suitable_, and then found himself a nice place to rest.

He was going to need it.

* * *

He half-heartedly planned for the Ardor. Yes, it was _important_, but the chance to see _her_ again, to catch even so much as a glimpse outstripped it and besides, he already knew how to _win_ at the game the factions were playing at. He didn't need to really _do_ anything except try and find _her_. When he did, he _stared_. 

She was a child, sitting on the dock with another, handing the white-haired boy a small purse of gil before running away. Gritting his teeth, he kept his soul as tightly wound about himself as he could, utterly smothering his presence and interacting with _nothing, no one_. He choked the urge to simply scoop the child up and disappear from the world into submission. 

He whiled away the years as he always did. A mix of sleep and rapt, attentive study of the young woman that so quickly grew into the Warrior as he plotted the best, possible moment to act. There would be a divergent point, a single moment where things would start to veer off from the timeline he knew. From there, things would snowball and alter accordingly. 

He found it at a banquet. Nothing about it had been marked as _unusual_ from his recollection. So when he caught the collapse of Lahabrea's former host, he knew that was it. He almost found it quaint, watching the way the soul was torn clumsily away. It was clear as day to him what the _problem_ was, but it wasn't _his_ problem to fix. Instead, he followed the soul and ahh'd softly as he found his missing Tower. 

There was a Tia in it. _Bound_ to it, in fact. He decided it was unimportant in the long run. The whole purpose of this exercise was to make sure _she_ lived this time around, and watched as the feline figure failed repeatedly. The Ascian thought, perhaps, that this was where he would have to step in but... No. Eventually, after the sixth try, the Crystal Exarch seemed to realize what the problem was. 

The seventh try pulled the Warrior through, clothes, body and all, and he smiled to himself as he watched her aether at a distance. 

At an even _greater_ distance, once he caught sight of the Garlean body. It was odd, watching the former Emperor watch the Warrior. Odder still when he watched the faintest kindling of _happiness_ start to catch between the two. 

All at once, he had an idea. They would _eventually_ come to blows, of that there was no doubt, however... Well, he could at least give her _some_ form of guidance, even if he didn't _say_ anything, right?

Beaks could not smile properly. 

They didn't need to. 

* * *

Months of waiting paid off. Barely any time for him, really. He watched as the pieces of her soul melded, as she took the raging light within her and compacted it down like a snowball. He saw the Tia call out, and picked his moment. She had the auracite. He had overheard the conversation with the elezen. She didn't stand a snowball's chance before Ifrit, blind as she was, and he saw before him two paths.

This. _This_ was the moment, he realized. If she struck him from behind, it wouldn't be enough. She couldn't bring the auracite to bear accurately enough to do more than briefly stagger him, and then they would fight. Thancred was rousing faster than the others. He would probably scoop the crystal and try to help the others back to their feet as she bought them time to figure out a plan. 

But... If she could see to _aim, _even if only for a little while... 

Grey feathers ruffled slightly as silver eyes narrowed in concentration. 

A fine line to walk indeed, he mused to himself as she struck true. The keening, agonized shriek that radiated out _hurt_, but he simply turned and dropped off the platform, wings spreading to send him careening through the aether as subtly as possible. He circled back when the commotion had died down, noted the auracite that held the tempering within it and followed the gunblade back to the Crystarium. 

All that was left was to sit back and watch how things unfolded. Between the Exarch's journey, the Scions and his own, there were so many tiny things _different_ between the then and the now. It truly was _incredible_, what a tiny tweak could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, the reason Zodiark was able to tell Elidibus to increase the timetable, which drove him to become reckless and make Bad Decisions(tm), which led to him getting hacked into, de-tempered and fixed.  
Behold, the method with which the other Ascians from the Black Rose timeline were unable to follow the Tower, as the method they needed was taken with the individual that went.  
Behold, the original method that the vault got 'broken into' without any sign of it being broken into.  
Behold, my altered theory behind the Shoebills.  
Behold, the reason the Warrior was able to aim and save Emet-Selch.  
Behold. The original lore behind why this story deviates so wildly from canon.


	15. Chapter 15

"Did -anyone- think to send a message to Estinien. At all." 

Silence answered her as both sorcerers considered their options before Urianger coughed quietly to break it.

"Upon thy return, I didst send word to Mistress Tataru. Presumably, she hath spread word of thy recovery." 

"Right. I'll take it, for now. meantime, what're we doing? We broke the portal and, uhh... So what exactly _did_ happen when the Thirteenth's shard of Zodiark went and, I dunno. Exploded, I guess." The Warrior idly leaned back on the cleaned couch, using the Ascian that was laying on the ground as a footstool for the time being. The three of them were still utterly naked, if freshly washed, and Emet-Selch stared at the ceiling with a pout while the elezen had stretched out to pillow his head on her lap. Offering up another strawberry, Urianger smiled faintly as he answered. 

"The fragment of Zodiark was sent careening through the space 'tween the stars. The crellbron hid our moon, and Elidibus did thus drift, shielded in orbit 'round the star to draw the blow. After striking him, the aether began to drift towards the continents, scattered and spread harmlessly among the atmosphere to be absorbed anon."

"Harmlessly absorbed, I'd hope. No reports of any horrible imbalances? No mini Zodiark's popping up?" A look of concentration crossed her features, and the Ascian on the carpet twitched, jaw clenching before he licked his lips and relaxed once more. Idly, his hands collected one of her feet and started to massage it in gentle circles.

"Close, little Monster." 

"I accept your bribe of pampering, and I'll get it eventually."

"Nay. Mistress Tataru didst report that naught was amiss, and 'tis my belief that Halmarut and Igeyorhm swept the potentially afflicted areas." Urianger picked a strawberry and dangled his arm off the couch so that it was next to the Architect's face, and glanced over to watch as it was promptly bitten into. He brought the rest to his own lips to finish it, and partially closed his eyes as the Warrior started to run her fingers through his hair. 

"So that means that Elidibus has to definitely stay on the Source, Lohgrif needs to keep an eye on the First... Oh hey, I wonder how the Exarch and them are doing, which reminds me. You ever properly apologize to him for literally shooting him in the back _<<Heidiz>>_?" She peered down at where Emet-Selch was, once more, cringing as she concentrated and failed to to anything more than butcher his name.

"So, _so_ close, little Monster. I did, in fact, while working on the method to rejoin the Scions with their souls. It was important to you, after all, and thus important to me. **<Hades.>**"

"Well _fuck_, I thought for sure I had it that time. What'm I doing wrong?" The Warrior sighed in exasperation, idly wiggling her toes in his grip as he thought about it and tipped his face to take a bite out of the next strawberry offered to him. 

"... Quite honestly I do not know. Lahabrea is the Speaker, perhaps he might offer you advice. You are managing to make things that equal aetheric _sounds_, which renders you one step above mute at least. For all that you might as well be screaming incoherently." 

"You said to try harder!" She snagged a strawberry and lobbed it at him, grinning as he tipped his face towards her and curled his torso somewhat, catching it with his mouth. A slight wave of one hand removed the green leaves from it so that he could chew and swallow the rest.

"Yes. Try harder. Not shriek like Nabriales with his _balls_ in a vice." 

The Warrior rolled her eyes, before pausing and tilting her head with a thoughtful frown. "I... Alright, now I gotta ask if that's an _example_ or if you actually heard him scream because of that." 

"I have not, admittedly, but 'tis something easy enough for me to imagine." Her words brought a smirk to the Ascian's lips, and he sighed softly before preemptively bracing himself. "Go on. Try it once more. Perhaps slower?"

_<<Heeeedeeeeeezzzz.>>_

Even Urianger winced at that one, though he remained silent and simply helped himself to some of the strawberries. 

"An aetheric buzz to clear the _sinuses_." Emet-Selch sighed in resignation, deciding to shelve the project for now. "Enough of that for today. 'Tis only so much discordance of that nature I can take."

"Alright. Next topic then. Do we have a _plan__? _Like, I get that we're resting and recovering, which I think I'm at least pretty much good to go, but what happens next? What are we doing?" She grinned down at Urianger, starting to smooth her fingers across his face instead of through his scalp, tracing the paths of his tattoo. 

"There is still yon voidsent army drifting 'twixt the Shards, and we know not how many tempered Ascians still yet linger. Those Mitron didst thus bring through to Azys Lla dwell now under crellbron guard." He turned his face slightly to nuzzle against her hand before offering a strawberry up to her. The Warrior hummed softly, before taking a bite out of it and leaving the rest for him to finish. 

"So that means we gotta talk to them to see if they've got an idea of how many are left. Was your tempered piece their, uhh... Leader, I guess?" She peered over at Emet-Selch, who hummed softly in response. 

"_Highly_ unlikely. They would have leapt at the chance to assert some form of dominance due to the ratio of soul to filler. We Paragons did, after all. Unfortunately, I simply do not have an answer for you regarding the current social structure or whom might have taken control. 'Tis not as if exact, distinct memories tend to remain with each piece, only the impressions of the most visceral and vivid ones."

* * *

When the Warrior walked into the guarded room of untempered, seemingly lost Ascians she didn't expect that within the first few minutes one of them would have used the crowd to sneak closer to her and try and shiv her with a steak knife. As such, she had staggered back and pulled it out of her side, baffled and glancing up at the _thump_ of the offending figure getting pinned to the wall by the Paragon that had entered with her. The rest had all backed away hurriedly after that, some of them cowering on the ground as Emet-Selch glared through the red glyph that had manifested before his face. 

"Everything... Everything was... Was going to work...!" The black robed figure wheezed against the press of the Architect's fingers into his windpipe. "I... I would have been...!"

"Alive. You would have been _alive_." Emet-Selch's lips curled into a sneer before he paused, glancing to the side as the Warrior came up to him and patted his shoulder. "You _cannot_ be serious."

"Bookman's already healed it. It's alright, let him down." She smiled up at him under the mask, nudging him with her shoulder as he huffed and dropped the hyur. "Thanks. Hey, here. I'm going to give you a few options, alright? And I want you to _really_ think about them."

She settled into a crouch, before drawing one of her swords and offering it out, hilt-first. The Architect folded his arms and stepped back, keeping an eye on the rest of the inhabitants in the room as the Ascian that had attacked her sucked in several deep breaths and stared stared at it. 

"Go on. Take it. What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter. You ruined _everything_. The Doom will come, and everyone is going to _die_." A hand came up to try and push the offered hilt away, succeeding only for her to offer it again. 

"It _does_ matter. Terminus isn't going to happen. Take it, and give me your name."

The untempered lesser Ascian finally, reluctantly after a moment of silent staring, accepted the blade before sighing. 

"Bertram, Ascian of the Twelvth Pentacle." 

"Good. Your options are as follows, Bertram. Try and kill me and trust that I'll defend myself appropriately, work _with_ me or get the fuck out of my way and stay out've it. If you seriously, _really_ think that I'm going to just let the Doom off everything and every one, then by all means use the sword. I've faced... _impossible_ odds, and the reason I've succeeded is because of every single soul workin' with me to pull things off. But, if you're even the _littlest_ bit interested in actually helping me _save_ everything, then turn that sword around and offer it back kindly. I don't want you to kneel. I'm not an overlord. You're not my servant. But I could use the help of everyone in this room, 'cause Twelve knows I'll need it." She folded her arms, before nodding towards him. "I'm not immortal. I don't have forever to wait for you to think on it, so you've got only a little bit to figure out what it is that _you_ really want."

"And if I decide I want out?"

"Then you get to leave. No harrassment, nothin' save the understanding that if I catch you squaring off against me again I _won't_ save you a second time. Which, really, is why I ask that you stay out've my way if you wanna do that."

Bertram stared at her, before dropping the sword and rounding his shoulders. "... Then... I want out. We failed against you, but against the Doom..." 

"Emet-Selch, you can teleport people. Send him to Costa del Sol, will you?" 

The Paragon lifted one hand, snapping his fingers, and the Ascian of the Twelvth Pentacle vanished with a startled exclamation. Priscilla rolled a shoulder, stooped to collect her sword and turned towards the rest of the 'rescued' Ascians in the room.

"Alright. That offer goes to everyone, y'know. No shame in saying you want out."

"How do we know you _actually_ sent him to Costa del Sol?"

"You all have my word that I dropped him over the water just off one of the piers there." The Architect refolded his arms, lifting his chin slightly. "Form up. Three groups. Who stays, who wishes to fight, and who wishes to leave?"

* * *

"It doesn't make _sense_." The Warrior frowned, hands behind her head as she ambled along the hallway. "The only other people leading them that I could think of would be Travanchet or Unukalhai. And I dunno really anything about that first one, either, but I sort've thought maybe Elidibus might've done something about the second." 

"Travanchet?" Emet-Selch drifted along idly, floating weightlessly and towed along by the tether he had attached to his little Monster. A thoughtful hum emerged from him. "I wonder..."

"Y'know, I was really hoping you would recognize the name. All we know is he's probably an Ascian, led the sahuagin in some attacks and had a hand in the summoning of Alexander." She grimaced, before dropping her arms and sighing. "Even they didn't know who the hells was running the show, just that they all got the same orders at roughly the same time and then were helped by a 'mysterious benefactor'. Nobody even got a glimpse of a soul-colour, which would be more helpful for you but probably the only way to actually identify the person for certain."

"We _did_ determine when they were expecting new orders, however. 'Tis a simple matter of sending someone particularly sneaky to go and follow one of the still tempered ones to catch whoever is giving them orders. Or at least their messenger."

"The sneaky people I'm thinking of probably wouldn't be able to do that, on account've a lack of ability to teleport. Elidibus has gotta stay here, you're sticking with me so that means Lahabrea."

"Lahabrea would open his big _mouth_ and get caught." The Architect huffed, folding his arms and watching the ceiling idly. "I would suggest some of the Sundered, however... Well, such would likely simply expose them to danger. The last time we sent them paired off with your vaunted 'buddy system' Halmarut and Pashtarot were very nearly killed. Whomever orchestrated that is still _out_ there."

"I don't like it." The Warrior grimaced, hunching her shoulders. "... Oh no. That was a _horrible_ idea, but..."

"-Please-, little Monster. We are running dangerously low on options."

"I mean... Thancred's got the sneakiness, and Lahabrea's got the teleport, so..."

Emet-Selch clapped a hand over his mouth, wobbling slightly in mid-air before rolling over to peer at her. "... He _did_ say he prefered Lahabrea to myself."

"It'll _never_ work. Funny as that might be." The rogue grinned at him, stopping and backtracking enough that she could draw his hand away from his mouth and give him a gentle kiss. "We've got a little bit of time. Not a whole lot, but enough to figure something out. Which, does remind me."

Her grin faded into a frown, and she turned to start ambling along once more as he hooked an arm around her shoulders and let himself get dragged along. "Hydaelyn's eating the Doom, but can't process it fast enough with everything going on. Which means we gotta find ways to strengthen Her, so that she can at least start to catch up. Which means we gotta check in with the Eden group _anyways_. Does, uhh... Does Eden need to breath? Like what was the plan after Eden turned everything into light?"

"Reusable resource, little Monster. If it turned out to be as effective as hoped, then we would begin constructing other versions that might make the process easier. Eden as it is should theoretically be able to survive in a vacuum, so no. Technically not. I truly _should_ go and double check my work. There may be a way to shift it's elemental inclinations to something less light based and more non-elemental, however _that_ conversion might take too long to complete before Hydaelyn's condition becomes truly critical." Emet-Selch nosed his way through her scarf, sighing contently as he pondered. "Alternatively, if possible, if she could be persuaded to leave the heart of the aetheric sea we might be able to stabilize her with enough Ascians the way a handful of Sundered kept Elidibus stable after your strikes."

"Ohh, I feel like the crellbron'd be perfect for that actually. The problem being that they're protecting the Source and the moon here. They could probably do perfectly fine in a void surrounded by light-aspected aether, though. They're all dead. They're already basically stilled anyways." Lifting a hand to idly tuck it against the arm around her shoulders, the Warrior hummed thoughtfully and nodded as they hung a left, heading for their rooms.

"We Ascians shall take their places defending the Source, then. 'Tis a simple enough matter, shielding Elidibus and hiding His prison. All we would need is an advanced method of determining both direction and location of any incoming strikes. Halmarut and Igeyorhm ought to be able to devise some manner of warning system, as well as keep watch for such things while the rest shuffle and reorganize themselves accordingly." 

"It's decided then. Here, I'll meet you back at the rooms. Why don't you go and tell Elidibus and let him delegate from there?" She turned her face to smile at the Architect, who heaved a dramatic sigh and gave her cheek a quick kiss. 

"Oh very well. I shall ask him about his disciple while I am at it."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Jeli!  
The three of them eating miq'abobs and (kind of?) camping! With floof!

When Elidibus walked into the Architect's rooms next to the Garlean form of her lover, she should have suspected something was up right then and there. But no, the Emissary was, as usual, all polite and mild smiles. He reported that he had already sent word to recall the crellbron, and that Lahabrea would make the journey on account of not only being a more appropriate elemental affinity. That he also free of the void-based aether that still tainted many of the Ascians was a bonus. Igeyorhm, after all, was the only other Ascian that lacked it. Something had come to his attention, however, that he wanted the Warrior to go and look into for him.

Which, really, meant that Emet-Selch would naturally be the one to handle transportation and surely, Urianger was a must in the event that they ran into any trouble. That should have been the _second_ cue that something wasn't quite what it seemed. Elidibus walked with them to the balcony, waving as he saw them off. It was only when she stepped through the rift with her boys that she realized something wasn't adding up. 

"So, what exactly is it that he wanted us to look into?" 

"Apparently, the wild dodo population in this area has grown exponentially and is disrupting the local wildlife. Not that you need _our_ help, culling their numbers, but we thought perhaps some idle exercise might do you some good. 'Tis my job to transport however many you kill to the refugees from the Ninth, in addition to whatever eggs Urianger collects." Emet-Selch idly waved a hand, and she squinted at him, suspicious. 

"I'm... pretty sure that anyone could do this." 

"Well, yes. But the three of us are still _technically_ resting, and something easy like this would be perfect for easing us back into what might be considered active duty, would it not?" The look the Architect gave her was mild, which had her narrowing her eyes further and humming conversationally. A glance towards Urianger revealed nothing, as he simply adjusted the pack he carried. 

"Alright. I'll bite. How many d'you want me to bag and bring here?"

"Two dozen ought to be sufficient. In the mean time, I will remain over there. 'Tis an enjoyable breeze that comes off the water, and it would be remiss of me should I pass up this opportunity to nap." Stretching, the Ascian ambled away to leave her quirking a brow at his yawn. 

"You two're up to something, aren't you." The Warrior turned towards the astrologian, who tilted his head. 

"This world hath been most unkind to thee, that thou needs must look for plots and subterfuge in every gesture."

"Not gunna give it away either? Fine. C'mon then. Let's go whack some birds so you can collect the eggs."

* * *

Boring as it was to wander aimlessly, kill a bird and then haul it's body back to where the Ascian was periodically making them disappear, the Warrior found herself turning to enjoy the salt breeze from time to time. Sighing contently as she dragged the last of them back to the last place she had seen Emet-Selch, she blinked at his absence and turned to shoot Urianger a questioning glance, receiving a shrug of his shoulders in response. 

"'Tis only the one left. Perhaps he did thus return to Azys Lla for a moment. He shalt likely return forthwith, although I needs must admit that the wind _is_ a smidgen chilly. Perhaps a small fire would be advisable? Would thou be willing to so accommodate?" 

"I begin to see the shape of this plot I've been suspecting for the last half a bell. A fire won't help much against the _wind_, c'mon Urianger you can do better than that."

He laughed at that, waving a hand and gesturing closer to the edge of the cliffs. "Thou hath the right of it. Admittedly, this ruse lacked much finesse. Our lover hath simply run down the coast in search of the few things we shalt thusly need for the completion of our plan, but a small fire would be necessary regardless. Art thou willing to still play along?"

"Alright. Most've this is dry grass though, starting a fire here would be a horrible idea. I take it there's a reason we've got one bird left?" The Warrior quirked a brow, turning and starting to pick her way to a path that would lead down to the rock beach at the base of the nearby cliff.

"Just so. Yon Architect shalt find us as necessary."

She grinned, and set about collecting dry driftwood. It was easy enough to find, and he followed her to a hidden ledge that stayed dry when the tide came in. It was flat and level, edged with tough grasses and bore the remains of previous bonfires. 

"Thou hath visited this site before?"

"Few times. Swiftperch I think is just southish. Lighthouse is something've a beacon, after all. It was a common place to drink and party. Those birds actually going to the refugees from the Ninth?"

"They are." Urianger sat down, adjusting his skirts as she got to work starting a small fire. idly, he started to retrieve the sticks and twigs he had picked up along the way, starting to turn each over in his hands. The relatively straight ones were set aside while the rest were offered as kindling, and the Warrior ahh'd softly. 

"Good. I'd hate for that effort to just go to waste, y'know?"

"_There_ you are." Both of them glanced up to watch the Architect as he drifted down, a paper bag secured against his chest with one arm and a scowl across his face. "This was _not_ part of the plan."

"Urianger was cold, so a fire was in order. Thing is, up on the cliff top it's all dry scrub and grass. Put a fire there and you get a catastrophe." The Warrior grinned as the Ascian's scowl eased, chuckling at the quiet huff he let out as he touched down. 

"Very well then. Oh, I see you have a bird left over. I take it the ruse is up?" Moving to sit down closer to the fire, he set the bag aside and curled his fingers through the air to draw it towards him with a tendril of aether. A large knife was produced a moment later, and once he had tugged it into the air before him got to work dressing the bird. 

"Hades, I was onto you the moment we got here. What's your actual game?"

"Tisk. I _had_ hoped for more of the element of surprise, but... Well, 'tis not one of my better plans admittedly. To be fair, however, this was rather spur of the moment." A hand idly gestured to the bird and then out towards the water before he resumed focusing on his task. "No game. The refugees put in a request for some extra food, and I thought perhaps you _missed_ the coast."

"You might _actually_ be worse than me at this whole 'wanna go out on a date' thing." The Warrior snickered, grin growing cheeky as he shot her a sullen look and hunched his shoulders. 

"I could have let you continue to go stir crazy in Azys Lla, little Monster. An onze of _graciousness_ would not be remiss."

"Yes, yes. Need a hand with the bird?" She quirked a brow, before shrugging as he shook his head. "Alright. I'll stretch out here. What's the plan?"

"Evening meal, of sorts." Urianger shifted over, reaching into the paper bag and pulling out a ruby tomato. He searched through a pocket before producing a small knife of his own, and started to chunk it and carefully worked the thin skewer-like sticks through the pieces. Periodically, he would hold them steady for Emet-Selch to deftly work pieces of dodo tenderloin onto them as well, and between the two of them assembled a good dozen miq'abobs. Another dip into the bag, and each of them had a small jar of spices and applied both salt and paprika. A snap from the Ascian had them floating over the fire, leaned in to cook. 

Through it all, Priscilla simply watched, taking in the way they held themselves and how they worked. Not to judge their form, no, simply to enjoy the way they moved and the way one silently knew when the other needed part of their seemingly joint project. A smile worked across her face as she sighed contently, pillowing her head on her arms as she took in the furrow of the Architect's brow. 

Had he held that same expression when he had worked on the chair? Concentration etched across his features, echoed by the set of the elezen's jaw that only eased when their task was done. Twelve, but she could watch them forever...

"Doth thou know how long these are to cook?"

"Fifteen minutes on average. Over the bonfire? Twelve. I have them." 

"Out've curiosity what's there to drink?"

"Beer, unfortunately." Emet-Selch sighed dramatically, studying the fingertips of his gloves and snapping his fingers to clean them. "A few bottles, no more. I thought a local brew would have been less of a disappointment, however... Well, if nothing else 'tis better than Blackbelly brandy."

The Warrior grimaced at that. "Thank the Twelve for that. Someone pass me one please?"

Urianger dug through the bag for a few monents before drawing one out. A careful lob practically put it in her hands, and she sat up so that she could crack it open and take a swig. Pausing for a moment, the Warrior lowered the bottle and frowned at both of them. 

"... What else's in the bag?" 

"A few more bottles of beer." Emet-Selch gestured slightly, and the miq'abobs rotated as the elezen leaned forward to carefully apply more spices to each of them. 

"And?"

"_And_ anything else is a surprise that can wait for later, little Monster." A smug smirk crossed the Ascian's face as a faint shimmer protected the astrologian's arm and hand from any flare ups from the fire. "Be patient."

"Alright, alright..." Still, she was curious, and she studied it as she tried to discern what, exactly, it might contain. At least two more bottles of beer, but it was particularly square on one side. A box? Small, perhaps as wide across as her hand-

"Oh for the love of... The eye of an experienced thief at work." Hades hauled himself up only to circle around and stretch out next to her, looping an arm around her waist when the astrologian followed and tucked up against her side. A gesture had the miq'abobs drifting away from the fire and over to them, where he inspected one and then snagged it. "Eat. I promise you this, little Monster, if you peacefully eat at least two the contents of the bag will be yours."

"Deal." She snagged two, handing one over to Urianger and receiving a nod of thanks in return as he shifted and reclined to use the Ascian's hip as a pillow, watching the way the sun sank towards the horizon. They spent the next few moments in comfortable silence, both of the boys sharing her drink in bits and pieces until everyone had had their fill. A gesture from Emet-Selch had the paper bag drifting over, settling it in front of her before he wiggled his fingers at her. 

"Go on. Your anticipation is nigh palpable."

Priscilla glanced between the two of them, before shrugging and reaching into the bag. Both of the remaining bottles of beer were removed, before she blinked at the two boxes that lingered in the bottom of the bag. The first one was narrow, and as she pulled it out and opened it to reveal a band of leather with intricate scrollwork engraved along one side. Frowning, the Warrior pulled it out and turned it over in her hands. 

"A bracelet?"

"One of thine arms already bears adornment from our paramour. Thus did thou seem uneven, and t'was mine intent to rectify such. May I?" Urianger sat up and held his hands out for it, and she nodded before offering it out. He carefully fastened it around her wrist, and she smiled at him as he did. 

"Thank's. I guess I gotta step up my game in the gifting department, don't I-"

"There's one more box, little Monster."

She rolled her eyes, curious as to why the Ascian was insistant, and shook her head as she pulled out the remaining box. Idly opening it, she froze and stared at the contents as Emet-Selch pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around her from one side as Urianger did so from the other. 

"How...?"

"Didst thou truly think such an important date would escape the notice of one bound to the discovery and translation of prophecy?" The elezen pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and the Warrior let out a quiet, impressed sound of surprise even as the Ascian hummed out an amused note and rested his chin on her shoulder. Carefully, she pulled out the icing-laden cupcake, smiling softly at the words written with icing across it.

"I will _remember_ this date, little Monster. A little forewarning would have been _nice_, as I only learned of it this morning, however... Well. Happy birthday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something soft, and sweet!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Crow  
Regarding too tight pants

Elidibus had somehow, inexplicably, managed to get himself sick. As such, he had sent out a series of messages looking for another Convocation member that might be able to fill in for him at the Summit. Everyone had their own projects, and politely declined however...

Two people _owed_ him. 

Oh _boy_, did they owe him. One was, admittedly, _supposed_ to be out of the city already however he knew that if he went one, the other would inevitably turn up whether they were supposed to or not. A phone call, followed by a grudging acceptance a moment later and the Emissary had invited Emet-Selch over to his apartment to pick up the relevant material for the summit. It was standard fare. A list of local customs to abide by, the general overview of what was expected to happen and a few hints and tips regarding who to stay away from and who would be open to conversation. The Architect's job would be, essentially, to sit quietly and listen to boring people talk for three hours every day until he either died of boredom or four days had passed. 

"You can't simply sleep through it either, unfortunately." Elidibus rasped his words out around a sore throat, a large mug of steaming tea in his hands. Red mask in place, the Emissary moved slowly through the monochrome white on black furniture and sat down on the couch. Setting the mug down, he pulled the blanket tighter about himself and sniffled thickly, black hair sticking up at odd angles. Emet-Selch leaned back slightly, cautious regardless of the assurances that it wasn't contagious. "I will need comprehensive notes for my Second to sort through while I recover."

"Yes, very well. But after this you and I are even-"

"Regarding the first week of the impromptu vacation you took, I will agree. The remaining three months, however..."

Such was how Emet-Selch found himself in a hotel staring at the clothing laid out across the bed. Black leather pants. A short sleeved, black leather coat that was trimmed with white fur and utterly lacked any means by which to close it. A wide belt meant more for keeping a shirt tucked in than his pants up, though he couldn't see the bottoms actually falling down on their own with how they looked like they were at least two sizes too small.

"I have no words to express my hatred for Elidibus right now." 

"I dislike pants on the best of days. At least you get to wear your mask with it." Eschaton smiled from where she stood by the window she had entered into the room from and reassuringly brushed her aether against his. A polite knock at the door had her striding past him, intent on answering it. "Go on. It's Hythlodaeus, I'll let him in."

"He _should_ have his own key." A soft huff escaped the Architect, before he started to shed his robes and lifted the pants, eyeing them critically. 

"Hey 'Daeus."

"'Ton. Thank you." Carefully easing past her with his hands full of their luggage, Rafail set them down at the end of the spare bed and then quirked a brow at the way Emet-Selch was stuffing the half-sized pockets back into his pants where they belonged. "Nice."

"-Please-, don't you think they are a little too tight?" The Architect shifted slightly where he stood, staring down at himself in disgruntlement and trying to adjust himself accordingly. 

"I think that might be the point. I agree with Hythlo on this one, though, so stop complaining. From what I saw flying over here, it looks like everyone is dressing... What _are_ you doing?" Eschaton ambled over, watching the way he had squirmed a hand down the front of his pants and hopped in place a few times, eyes narrowed in concentration. She reached out to snag him by the hips to still him, and deftly undid the button and the fly.

"Readjusting my genitals before something gets _crushed_. These pants are simply _impossible_ and- What are _you_ doing?" 

"Helping. Nothing can get squished if there's nothing constricting them." Eschaton hooked her thumbs over the waistband of the pants and worked them down, grinning up at him before nuzzling against one of his thighs. 

* * *

He was _almost_ late for the first day of the summit. The white ermine that blended in with the fur collar of the coat was warm against the back of his neck, and he idly lifted a hand to scritch her under the chin before stepping out of the elevator and into the conference room. As he took his seat the clock ticked over to the hour, and despite the stares everyone had leveled at him. He spent the first hour studiously ignoring them and jotting down notes just the same as everyone, before sighing softly and putting his pen down. It wasn't as if he was going to _forget_ what was going on, so long as he paid the barest sliver of attention to it. Instead, he let his aether unfold just the slightest bit to tickle against at of the dozing Eschaton's. 

She twitched slightly against his neck, and nosed more comfortably into his collar, reassured and content. By the third hour, he was getting stares again, and as everyone stood up in the room to end the meeting several of the others came up to him, radiating disgruntlement and anger. He folded his arms as the rest of the twenty or so souls that had gathered left, and leaned a hip back against the table. 

"Where is Elidibus." 

"Under the weather, if you-" Sharp teeth nipped the back of his neck, a reminder to _be nice_, and he smiled thinly, slightly lightening his tone. He offered a polite bow that seemed to mollify some of them. "-are truly curious. 'Tis my earnest hope that he recovers swiftly, but alas. I was asked to act in his stead."

"Another member of the Convocation of Fourteen, from Amaurot..." One of those that lingered glowered, before the expression eased into a frown. "... Percy? Is that you?"

Eschaton paused, before poking her head up over the collar and squeaking inquisitively. Her nose worked, and Emet-Selch narrowed his eyes at the man before holding up a hand so that his excitedly squeaking wife could clamber into his hand and wave two tiny, stubby forelimbs in a wave. Her antics drew an easy laugh from him, and he dipped into a full bow before straightening. 

"This must be him then! Well now. I thought you were supposed to be east across the sea!" A smile curled the gentleman's lips upwards before he slapped Emet-Selch across the shoulder. "I heard about how you didn't stand a chance against my brother." 

"I did _admirably_ until I was-Ouch!" The Architect scowled down at where the Botanist had nipped his wrist. "What. I was _winning _that fight until your uncle-" 

He paused, and then looked at the man in front of him, several things connecting all at once. Eschaton wiggled in his grasp, before running up his arm to nuzzle and squirm against the side of his face. There was _certainly_ a resemblance, now that he looked for it. Kind blue eyes glittered back at him, and Emet-Selch dipped into a polite bow. 

"You must be the uncle then. Well played, I must say." 

"It wasn't about winning or losing, but about your willingness to fight for what you believed in. Chiron." A hand was offered out, and as the Architect straightened he accepted it and tried not to wince at the immediate pressure on his fingers. 

"Our meeting is long overdue, Ser." 

"It is. Alright, everyone, give the kid some space." Chiron shooed the rest of them away, before turning back to catch the twitching, mirthless smile that had grown across Emet-Selch's face at being called a child. "Don't worry about them." 

"Worry would not be a particularly accurate description for what I would do, however I digress. I was under the impression you were in retirement, Ser-" The attempt at a proper smile evaporated as his conversation partner shrugged out of his coat and offered it out to the ermine, who chittered, leapt off of her husband and shimmered. Fur receded, leaving long silver hair and tanned skin with a gold undertone in it's wake as Eschaton retook her humanoid shape and threw her arms around her uncle. 

"I worried about you! I thought while I was in the neighborhood I should stop by."

"Yes, yes- Oh. You've become _decent_. Well done, my girl!" Chiron shifted his coat to one hand as he wrapped the other around her. "When did this happen?"

"About a year ago, Unkie. I started figuring out how to bring my robes with me, though if I shift too fast they rip and tear something awful." Letting go of the man, she stepped back and then reached for the Architect's hand, pulling him forward a step. "You needn't worry about propriety, Lovely. Uncle Chiron's used to worse."

"Bless the concept of small mercies for that, I suppose." Huffing quietly, Emet-Selch wrapped an arm around her and pulled Eschaton in front of him so that he could drape himself over her shoulders. 

"Speaking of propriety, is Elidibus really sick?" Chiron frowned.

* * *

The Emissary idly bobbed his head to the music that pulsed through the walls, enjoying the darkness and the muted lighting of the club. Chipped white mask the only thing that might identify him as an Amaurotine citizen in the city that the Summit was being held in, he languidly stretched a leg and enjoyed the way the tight leather pants clung to him. Hale, healthy, he was privately pleased that he had decided to ditch the meetings. Turning slightly to the person sitting next to him, reaching for their collar. Threading a finger through the loop where a leash would attach to, he tugged them closer and murmured into their ear. 

A demure bow of her head answered his request for a drink, and as his attendant for the time being slipped off the couch Elidibus admired her retreating figure. Idly, he reached for the basket of fries and snagged one, dunking it into the ketchup and then eating it. It wasn't long before the remarkably enjoyable young lady came back with a pair of drinks before moving to straddle his lap and offer him one. 

"I return, Master. I hope this drink is to your liking~."

"Hmm..." Accepting the drink, he took a sip and smiled softly. "It is, Precious. Well done. You got something virgin for yourself?"

"I did, Master."

"Excellent. Dance for me."

She smiled, sipped her drink and then slipped from his lap to acquiesce to his demand. 

* * *

"He looked absolutely horrible when I saw him. Glossy, red eyes. Sniffles. Hoarse voice. Bundled up too, and drinking tea." Emet-Selch shrugged slightly. "An aetheric bug, apparently, and non-contagious. He should recover by the end of the week."

"I wish him a speedy recovery then." Chiron frowned slightly, something on his mind before he shrugged and shook his head. "Passing strange, however. These symptoms do not match what an aetheric bug would do. He would simply be tired." 

The Architect frowned faintly, and exchanged a glance with Eschaton as her expression mirrored his. 

"I needs must remain here, my dear. Feel up to a little bit of _sneaking_?"

His wife matched his growing smirk, and nodded.

* * *

Something was wrong, in familiar ways. There was that faint prickle of 'wrong' in the air that had him thankful he had changed back into his robes of office when he had returned to the city. Sniffling quietly, he unlocked the door to his apartment with a wave of his hand and stepped in, closing it behind him. 

There it was. A familiar sense of _waiting_, and the faintest taste of spring flowers in the air. There was one singular person that had ever managed to sneak into his territories without setting off a single alarm, and Elidibus felt a slight smile tug the corners of his lips upwards. 

"Eschaton?"

"Emissary." Came the response from the kitchen, and he turned to start making his way over to where her voice came from. He was unsurprised to find her seated at the black table, and moved to sit down nearby until she rose and waved a hand at him. "No, don't bother. I just came by to ask where Emet-Selch went. He wasn't at the apartment when I got back, and Hythlodaeus isn't around to ask either."

"Ah. I asked that he head to the Summit in my stead. I am, regrettably, sick-" Leaning back, he quirked a brow behind his mask as the Botanist circled the table and invaded his space, sniffing quietly. "-Terribly rude thing to do, Eschaton."

"Hm? Oh. I wouldn't worry about it. I'll head out to the Summit then." The Botanist didn't bother to wait for an answer, simply ambling around him to the door and waving an idle hand as she went. "Fret not, I know where the door is. Rest well, Elidibus."

"I intend to, Eschaton." A polite smile had settled across his features as he inclined his head, and as he heard the door open he felt it fade into a frown. 

"Hey, Ophi?"

"Yes, Percy?"

"Next time you want a vacation, take a normal one like everyone else, yeah? You smell like the nice little sex club down on fourth and main in Carrow that does free dinners with the monthly membership." 

Elidibus winced at the sound of the door closing and sat down at the table, red in the face to match his mask. He had _questions_, none of which he was sure he wanted the answers to, and instead removed his mask and raked his fingers back through his hair. He would have to account for the sensitivity of her nose, next time. A smile curled the corners of his lips upwards as he briefly entertained the thought of _inviting_ her, and then laughed at what he thought the expression on Emet-Selch's face might be if he did. Well then. Maybe he would just have to invite them both and determine which of them might be more scandalized. 

A pleasant, if impossible thought.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For DragonFlight,  
Someone needs a kitten! Or several.

"Explain to me again, little Monster, exactly _what_ we are doing here?"

"Renting kittens." 

"Lovely. Kidnapping the equivalent of _infants_. I had hoped I had somehow misunderstood." The Ascian heaved a sigh as she shook hands with the cat-cafe owner and the obligingly accepted the box of mewling, furred sausages. Turning towards him, the Warrior beamed and then ambled a little closer. 

"Hey, he's _going_ to be angry. Bookman! Did you get them?" 

"Verily, t'was not as difficult as one may have expected. Thy plan seems likely to work." Urianger waited for her to shift the box to one arm before offering out the bag of bottles. She wrapped her arm around it, and hefted both gently a few times. "Still, thou art certain of thy course?"

"Yeah. The moogles love me, so it's not like I'll get mobbed by more than the Mogsguard. I'll be well defended, if nothing else." The Warrior beamed at the two that stared at her, before it faltered for a moment. "... What."

"The last time I let you out of my sight for more than a few moments, you found trouble. I am _debating_ the likeliness of such a thing happening once more and whether or not I truly should go with you." Emet-Selch folded his arms, lips curling down into a frown as his brows furrowed. "He is perhaps one of the more _competent_ people that you might be able to find, but _moogles_ tend to bumble their way through things more than they manage to actually succeed."

"I'll be _fiiine_. If you're that worried, send Kweh with me. 'Least he can fly and keep me out've trouble that way, right?" She shifted slightly to nudge his shin with the toe of her boot, drawing a huff from the Architect. 

"_Fine_, she says, asking me to send her off with no more protection than a chocobo that I have seen do naught but run around, willy-nilly." 

"Kweh has, admittedly, proven to be an unusually staltwart companion. Ne'er hath I see him leave her side in combat 'less directly ordered to flee. He hath undergone training to snag our paramour should her Pulse activate, fleeing with her in tow." Urianger stepped in, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the Warrior's hair before straightening with a sigh. "... Still, I needs must attend to some handful of matters, as must Emet-Selch."

"Yes, yes..." The Architect heaved a sigh, waving a hand and stepping in to stoop and nuzzle his forehead against the faintly blushing rogue's. "_Do_ try and call upon me should things take a turn for the worse. 'Tis simply a step to collect Urianger, and then another to your side."

"And now I'm red in the face." The Warrior shifted to give him a quick peck on the cheek, turning to do the same to the elezen as he obligingly leaned down. "Right. Send me off. I'll, I dunno, suck on the crystal or something if I can't find him and get lost."

Hades covered his face with a palm, shaking his head and sighing as he snapped his fingers and sent his wife into a rift.

* * *

Priscilla enjoyed visiting with the moogles as the Mogsguard swept the area for any sign of her prey. Fortunately, they found him perched atop some ruins that looked out to Nidhogg's former domain, which meant all she had to do was give hugs all around. Collecting the box of kittens, and making sure all were accounted for, she mounted up and then nudged Kweh to take her into the air. 

Twelve, but the bird looked like he shouldn't be able to _fly_. She didn't think anyone could convince him otherwise after he had learned how to in Tailfeather. Besides, he was fast and full of raw enthusiasm that had them both zipping through the air at ridiculous speeds. She worked hard to make sure the kittenbox was covered and that the cargo was secure, before steering the chocobo with her knees. 

It wasn't long before she was shifting her weight and guiding the bird down towards the ledge that she could see the the white-haired figure lounging on. Kweh warked loudly, drawing the dragoon's attention before he touched down with all the grace of a sack of potatos. As he stumbled, the Warrior threw a leg over the saddle and smoothly dismounted, grinning and ambling over as the chocobo's momentum was spent across the stones and the bird finally righted himself. 

"Estinien! Catch!" She made as if to throw the bag of beer bottles at him, and he glowered sourly at her as he crossed the distance and collected it from her before she actually did so. Her grin widened as she shifted the blanket aside and retrieved a kitten, plopping the mewling creature over one of his shoulders and immediately drawing a borderline hostile reaction from the dragoon. "Aww, I think that one likes you."

"Warrior, you cross a line." 

"I cross many lines, most of them bad ideas until I finally get to where I'm going. C'mon, sit with me." Plopping down a good distance away from the ledge, the rogue collected a kitten for herself and carefully tucked it against her stomach. A growl answered her, before Estinien sat down beside her and trued to carefully peel the kitten away from where it was trying to burrow under his hair. 

"Sodding hellbeast, let _go_-" he hissed, finally extracting the kitten and glaring at it as it mewled at him and then turned that glare on the Warrior as she dropped another one into his lap. "You intend to empty that box onto me one hellbeast at a time."

"I do." The Warrior set the box between them, before adding a kitten to her own lap. "C'mon, admit it. I saw you with the cat on the roof, I know you secretly love them, you crusty bastard. Besides, it could be worse. They could've been _moogles_. I certainly had enough volunteers for the job."

A disgusted sound answered her, though the elezen started to strip off the worst of his armor so that the kittens at least had cloth to settle atop. She beamed at him as he flopped back, and piled kittens onto his chest before laying back and adding the rest to her 'collection'. Kweh warked in the background and a whistle from the Warrior settled him defensively on watch. 

"I sodding hate you."

"I know. I'm sorry it took so long to get out here. I wanted to say thanks for fighting on the Thirteenth, y'know? But, ho man, that fight _fucked me up_. It's only recently that I was allowed out, and even then I immediately found trouble. It's only 'cause I swore up and down that I'd be with you that either of them let me out of their sight." 

"Either of _them__?_ Bedded another Ascian?" A sneer curled his voice, and she idly drew a grunt from him as she swatted him in the side. 

"Urianger, if you gotta know." 

"What, finally? You pined for him for an age." A smug smirk was aimed at the Warrior, who rolled her eyes. 

"Yeah yeah... So I've been told. I dunno. I didn't know if it'd work at the start but... Well. I mean. I dunno. It's-... It's a _thing_."

"A good thing?"

"Twelve be kind, a _very_ good thing." She sighed relaxing and tipping her head to the side as one of the kittens snuggled up under her chin. "Like, I was so afraid that I might favour one or the other more and that there'd be jealousy, or that one've them would favour the other more than me, but that all sort've _melt__s away_ under the way they _look_ at me."

"Good. You should have fucked him sooner."

"Moenbryda grief, okay! Look, you didn't _see_ the wind up doll-"

"Grief sex is also good." He was grinning at her now, and the Warrior stuck out her tongue at the dragoon in retaliation. 

"I couldn't. Not when I was responsib-" She squinted as he tucked a kitten across her mouth, effectively shutting her up as she carefully tried to scoot the mewling, stubborn furball towards her neck instead. 

"You are no more responsible for her death than I was for the burning of my village, Warrior. Stop being an idiot." 

"That's _differen-_hnt!" Giving him an exasperated look as he deposited another kitten onto her face, she tried to convey her displeasure by squinting dramatically and furrowing her brows. 

"Is it? Death you could not prevent, that you blame yourself for. Like a sodding _idiot_." Estinien stole a few kittens from the pile on her stomach, adding them to his own to replenish his stock so to speak as he continued. "At least the lad is has a good head on his shoulders. When even I could not get close, you let him within arms reach. Stop being a a sodding, scum-buggering _idiot_, the two've you at least look good together."

"Like you and Aymeric?" Her words earned her a withering glare, which simply fueled her grin. "What. The two've you _are_ cute together. Ebony and ivory. You don't care what people think've you, so why should me saying that bother you?"

He had no answer for that, which made her tuck another kitten atop his chest. 

"Seriously. Don't be me. Go out and kiss the man silly. I know you left him 'cause you didn't want to drag his reputation down, so get your crusty ass in gear and push him against a wall and do the apology blow job and then make-up sex." The Warrior looked up towards the sky. "You both deserve to be happy."

"I... I can't." The words were growled out, and the dragoon sighed sullenly. I-"

"It's because've the little bit of Nidhogg left in you, isn't it." She watched as Estinien flinched and then glared at her. "Look, you _know_ about Fray. Everyone's got darkness, and Nidhogg's soul's moved on. And you're still here. So live, yeah?" 

"Suck on a sodding _dick_, Warrior."

"Already checked that box recently. Your turn."

* * *

They visited for a good hour before the Warrior finally admitted that the kittens should probably go back to the kittencafe that she had rented them from. She idly rubbed the chunk of crystal, gathered up the kittens and then tucked her lips together to whistle out a piercing note. Estinien ruffled her hair, receiving a boot to a metal-plated shin in return and they smirked at each other before he collected his spear. 

"Good to see you have the Ascian trained to come like a dog when you whistle." 

"Good _grief_. I think I might prefer _Thancred_." Huffing as he stepped through the rift, Emet-Selch folded his arms and scowled. 

"Nah, he doesn't that when I whistle. I've gotta slap him with my soul for it. Here, have some kittens!" The Warrior ambled over, offering the box out to the Ascian as he huffed out an annoyed sound and accepted them anyways. "What. Go on, tell me I'm wrong."

"Dirty pool, little Monster." 

"I know. Hey, Wyrmblood?" She looked over to the elezen as he finished strapping his armor into place. "If you don't fuck Aymeric, I'm helping him hunt your ass down, yeah?" 

"Jump off a sodding _cliff_, Priscilla." 

"Love you too, Brother. Hunt well." A wave was offered to the dragoon as he bound away, before she turned to the Architect. "Thank's for showing up so quickly."

"Is telling _everyone_ how I get off the new thing? Should I be expecting advice, hints, tips or tricks or was this a one-time only occurrence." A hand was raised, dropping the approaching chocobo through a rift with a snap before he huffed at the one-armed hug she gave him. 

"Estinien's the one person in the world I can say literally anything to and not have to worry about it. He was almost my Second, y'know." A gentle nudge had Emet-Selch leaning down far enough that she could kiss him gently. "... Besides, he doesn't actually care. He's more wrapped up in his own inner turmoil and pining for Borel."

"You _owe_ me regardless, little Monster. At least forewarn me next time you decide to air out my proverbial laundry."

"You don't have a leg to stand on, mister 'Hey Elidibus wanna join? I gotta ask the chick I'm kissing first but offer's there'." The Warrior grinned at him as he grimaced and snapped his fingers, sending them through a rift to the cafe she had rented the kittens from. 

"I... I _did_ say that, didn't I."

"You _did_. I was very angry that he'd interrupted us and still almost burst out laughing. I'm _really_ hoping he doesn't remember that, though if he does I'm still gunna have to say no." Collecting the box of kittens, Priscilla re-counted them to make sure they were safe and accounted for before bounding towards the door and nudging it open with a hip. 

Emet-Selch simply watched, wincing at the memory of how he had run his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, each and every one of you for commenting T.T  
I know we have a discord server and many of you comment there as well, but that you take the time to leave comments on the actual story just make me squee with internal delight Q.Q  
AHHHHHHHHHHH  
(<3)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Pandasmiles!  
Character goes through their inventory, and it ends in a wee little bit of heartwarming fluff!

She hadn't taken inventory in a _while_. Not properly at least. Sure, she kept up with the general maintenance, but tomorrow they were going to leave so she had to make sure everything was in working order. Currently, she sat in their rooms by herself, Urianger and Emet-Selch having gone to the meeting of the minds to try and figure out where to go next. Not her scene, she had told them. Just point her in the right direction and she'll take it from there. 

A partial lie that had the Architect and the astrologian sharing a knowing glance, but neither of them called her on it. Instead, they left her to her own devices with the promise that it wouldn't take more than a bell at the most before Hades got _bored_ and returned anyways. Urianger sighed and agreed to be the responsible one that would stay to the end of it, and with a kiss for each the Warrior watched them both leave the room. The silence felt heavy, almost oppressive as she stared at the door and then moved to sit on the floor. 

It had been... _nice_. This brief reprieve she had gotten from primal slaying, even if she itched at the thought of staying in one place for too long. A smile settled across her features as she finished laying out her effects, sighing softly. 

Two black blades. They had served her well, ever since she had gotten them during the first Titan crisis. They didn't sharpen worth a _damn_ but they also didn't break or chip. A gift from the Scions, some Garlean metal that she _really_ should ask the Artificer about inset with two fine strips of flint. The line along the left hand blade was missing in places, which meant she really should take it to Cid to get it repaired. A mental list was formed, and she proverbially tacked that to the top of it. The gold scrolling was a little worn in spots too, but that was more of a cosmetic flaw than a functional one. She sort of liked the way it was partially flattened and bent where it shouldn't have been. 

They were scarred, after a fashion. Just like she was.

A shake of her head had her inspecting each of the throwing knives, sorting them by region she had picked them up in. The Warrior had come a long way from the three beaten up, dull grey blades she had stolen in a time and life that felt forever ago and impossibly far away. One longer, to tuck down the back of a boot, and two smaller ones for each sleeve. From there, she inspected the leather-wrapped hilts of the ones she had picked up in Ul'dah, the wood and horn bound set from Gridania. The fangs from Ishgard and the flat, steel shivs from Revenant's Toll. Two Doman kunai. A flat, tiny little thing from Yugiri that tucked neatly between her breasts. She had stopped collecting them after a while, considering she had started running out of places to hide them. 

All of them were in good condition, though the leather grips on the ones from Ul'dah would have to be replaced sooner rather than later. She fingered Yugiri's gift and smiled fondly at the memory of when the Au Ra had given it to her. 

_"Each blade weighs differently." The ninja marveled, pouring over the rogue's collection. "How do you adjust your aim so quickly?"_

_"I started with glass shards as a kid, funnily enough. Just sort've got good at throwing whatever was on hand. I could probably load down with kitchenware and still be a force to be reckoned with. The problem is none've these are all that easy to hide. I mean, yeah, I _ ** _can_ ** _ hide them, but..." The Warrior paused as Yugiri fished a hand down the front of her gear, coming up with the smallest sheathed blade she had ever seen. "Daww, Yugiri that's adorable!"_

_"Soft leather too. Perfect for between the breasts. Here, take mine. I can get another one easily enough, and it has saved my dignity more than once. Every woman should carry one." It was tossed idly over, and she caught it with a laugh. _

_"Dignity, what a word for it. Limsa had it's fair share of that type of shite too. You grow up quick there, or you ended up disappearing. Nobody, man or woman or otherwise should have to prepare to defend against that sort of scum, but sadly it's a **thing**. Merlwyb's been an absolute force of nature against it though, so it's not as bad as it used to be. Thank's. I'll keep this with me." _

Idly, she wondered how the ninja was doing. How Hien was doing, and by extension how the Steppes and Doma in general were faring. She owed them all a drink, if nothing else, though the last time she had seen them had been an utter blast. One of Emet-Selch's gifts to her, as he tried to dig himself out of the dog house. Twelve, but he had run himself practically ragged with the impromptu gift, and for all that she appreciated it, for all that she had still been upset with him she had been worried that a gentle breeze might have been all it would take to knock him over. That he had _touched_ without asking still stung in some abstract, removed way, but she was content for now to let the matter lie. He was going above and beyond to prove himself trustworthy again, after all, like a cup mended piece by piece with gold. 

Tataru was incredibly wise. This was an undeniable fact, and the Warrior sighed as she wondered how the lalafell managed to do it. She was like the cool aunt that was just... _there_, that _knew_ things and that could be asked any question without an ilm of shame. She was as cut throat as any of her people, in surprisingly wholesome ways.

Shaking her head, the rogue sorted through some of the smaller nick knacks she had picked up. One of the claws stolen from Elidibus' gloves. A few fragments of crystals. Two mints. One of the stars stolen from Urianger's decorative chains. _Those_ were surprisingly sharp, and she wondered if it was deliberately so. She also wondered at the fabric, and how it never seemed to catch on the pointy bits. Was it the robe from the First? Was it a recreation by Tataru? Probably both. He had probably asked for one from the lalafell and then later went back for the original. She hadn't been sold on how it hung about his shoulders when she had first seen it, but... well, it grew on her. It was terribly convenient and distracting, and the Warrior wondered at the bejeweled collar-like necklace he wore. 

Well, she _did_ owe him a gift, after all. From what she could tell, he was into some _really_ freaky stuff, which she hadn't really delved into but certainly had her peripheral attention. The one person she could think of that she should really give the honour of _that_ conversation was Feo Ul. Not only because the ancient fae would get a kick out of it, but also because they could offer _advice_. Priscilla felt like she was going into it all practically blind. What was the proper etiquette? What were the rules? Limits? A conversation she would have to have with _both_ of her boys, but at least some scouting by way of Titania would make sure she could follow the basics. 

Idly, she traced her fingers along the leather wristband and the scrolling patterns embossed into it, smiling slightly at the texture before it faltered slightly. Texture. She was... A lumpy, scarred potato of a person. Rifling through one of her pouches, she recovered a tiny, thimbul-sized vial of blue liquid and idly swirled it about in it's container. A decision for another day, she thought to herself as she set it aside, and distracted herself with checking her stock of Greaser. Two full containers. Two flasks, one of water and the other of the purest whiskey she had been able to find in Azys Lla that she reluctantly set aside as 'medicinal'. Some bandages. 

For all that the tiny blue potion lacked eyes, it certainly felt like it was _staring_ at her.

Draping the scarf over it didn't help in the slightest and all at once she shifted the cloth aside, broke the wax seal to tear it open and downed it like a shot.

Unconsciousness slapped her with all the force of Titan, and the Warrior slumped back against the couch.

* * *

Emet-Selch had given a generous estimation of how much time he would be willing to spend at a meeting. A _very_ generous estimation. Half a bell into it and he was already fighting the urge to nap as Lahabrea laid out the plan. Independent research on methods to support Hydaelyn as She transmuted the Doom into something far less dangerous. Methods to protect the Source and Zodiark's prison from whomever the 'mastermind' they were arrayed against. Information gathering. A general check up on a variety of lesser topics and their options regarding freeing the souls from the fragments of the First Primal. Could anyone else carry them? Could anyone else sunder them free without damaging them? 

The Architect slumped back in his chair, arms folded and wishing he had his mask or, barring that, a deep hood to pull down over his face. At least that would cut the glare from the overhead lights and let him _rest._ Instead, deprived of the unconsciousness he so desired, he thought about the items he had folded into his own aether. Of the myriad of things he had picked up (basic tools, some non-perishable foods, his armor, a spare change of clothes for the vessel, and other essentials) he had a few things that he cherished. The shoebill vessel, locked in stasis (because it was so _so_ much easier to simply set it down and then inhabit it than it was to shape a fully grown Garlean male into the form of a _bird_) and his gun. His staff. His crown and banner. A larger set of robes for when he hit the half-way point between physically inhabiting a body and being a legless, floating aether-monstrosity. The red, crystal bracelets that Hythlodaeus had given him, so long ago that acted as an amplification item. 

Her ring.

Such a tiny thing, for all that he curled himself around it the tightest. A brief flicker of blue warmth wrapped in cool, dark velvet. Emet-Selch felt his vessel shiver reflexively as he touched it with his aether-

(_"-opefully this works. I've never woven a memory into anything before, but we'll see how it goes. If it takes, it takes." He could feel the shape of her smile as it danced about her own lips, could see it in the mirror that Igeyorhm held before her. "Hey. I know... That one day I might not be here. But I want you to know that I **love** you, alright? For all your flaws, for all your mistakes, I love you. I might not have forgiven you yet for the big things, but... Don't give up, okay?"_

_The Warrior looked thoughtful for a moment, as if trying to decide what to say next before bursting out into laughter. "Twelve, I don't even know where I'm goin' with this. But I wanted you to know that, alright? It's important to me, that you never forget it. Even if, in a hundred years I'm dead and gone and you're still here, trying to fix your mistakes, I still believe in you. Take care of everyone you can, accept that you're allowed to make mistakes, and keep picking yourself up okay?"_)

The Architect smiled softly, and excused himself from the meeting. 

* * *

**<Persephone!>**

She _knew_ that voice, knew the way it tingled and rumbled through her. Grunting, the Warrior stirred and blinked at the worried, pale-gold eyes that peered down at her. She took in the line of the jaw, the furrow of the brows beneath the Garlean third eye, and reached up to pat the side of his face. 

"... Didit werk?"

"Did it-? That depends entirely on if you were attempting to give yourself a third _kidney_." Huffing, Emet-Selch carefully scooped her up and settled onto the couch with her across his lap. A quick lift of one hand to his mouth had him tugging off one glove with his teeth before he stuffed a hand under her shirt, a look of concentration crossing his features as he slid his hand along her torso. 

"... Shit. I didn't do that, did I? I was just tryin' to be less lumpy." 

"You could have _waited_ for me to return, before attempting to transfigure yourself. Fortunately, you gave yourself the correct number of _ribs_. No physical anomalies..." Sighing softly, the Ascian rested his head against the back of the couch, relaxing ilm by ilm as his aether flit across her form and found nothing wrong. "... Zodiark's Mercy, just when I thought myself fully capable of _rolling with the punches_... I simply _cannot _leave you alone, now can I."

"Hey now, I didn't change _me_. I just... Got rid've the worst of the scars. Or at least I hope I did. Didn't really have a chance to check." 

"I would _hope_ you did so because _you_ wanted to, and not because of something anyone said." Letting his sight return from the aetheric, Emet-Selch unzipped her coat and tugged her shirt up so that he could study her stomach. The twisted masses of scar tissue were gone, leaving silver streaks to mark where they once lay and as the Warrior peered down at herself she heaved a sigh of relief. 

"Phew. I was worried how that was gunna turn out. Scars can hurt sometimes, so I figured, I dunno. Maybe if I did something about them, I'd hurt less? And I think that worked for my joints too, more or less. I certainly _feel_ less stiff." 

"An acceptable reason, then." Straightening somewhat, the Architect cupped the side of her face and pressed his lips against hers, gently nipping at her bottom lip before relaxing against the couch once more. "... Quite honestly, I don't know why I worried so. You always _were_ a natural at shapeshifting, presumably from the very moment you came into this world, although there is some concern that the Devourer fragment got the lions share of it."

"Y'know, I didn't think of it like that. I just... I dunno. I thought about me being me and then just sort've... You know."

"Not all shapeshifting is equal, little Monster. Yours seems as though it was strictly a physical alteration. Mine is an overlapping of two forms that then eventually results in one being shed so that the other unfolds, or conversely one being folded so that the other can be worn. Still others are simply a projection, worn like a shirt while the original lingers within. It can be hastened evolution and mutation. It can be a conscious re-arranging of aether and then imposing of the new form. Many roads may be walked to this destination." Grimacing, Emet-Selch folded his still gloved hand over his eyes, and sighed softly. "Well, if nothing else I _do_ look forward to re-learning your physical body."

"Heh, that'll have to wait. So how was the meeting?"

"Stunningly _boring_. 'Tis a time of constant, nigh ceaseless deliberation. None of _them_ are liable to move at the pace you will need them to, if left to their own devices. However, some things _do_ require a great deal of rumination." A grimace twisted his features before he idly tilted his head to watch her as she collected his glove and slipped her hand into it. "I _could_ simply get you your own pair, you know."

"It brings back bad memories of the meetings right before Zodiark, doesn't it."

Her words, soft as they were spoken, utterly stilled him for a heartbeat before he looked away and nodded.

"I thought so. Far as I know, we've got three major short term, unaddressed goals. Find out who's in charge of the voidsent, cleave the rest of the souls out of the Zodiark shards to save them, and shuffle the rest of the shards into the Source in ways that won't murder countless people, right?"

"Correct."

"With the addressed ones being the short term of 'defend the Source' and 'support Hydaelyn so that She can keep chugging through the Doom She's been swallowing for years'." The Warrior squinted up at the ceiling looking thoughtful as Emet-Selch watched her quietly. 

"And your continued longevity."

"Why... Do I not get the feeling that you mean that as in just not dying in combat." She squinted at him, watching the amused smirk that curled across his face before he reached to collect her gloved hand and press it against the side of his face.

"One of the things they have in the works is an attempt to elevate you to the same status of immortality as the rest of the Ascians. You _are_ a member of the Convocation of the Fourteen, after all. 'Tis not only I that does not wish to lose you."

"I mean... I'm flattered? But... I dunno if I _could_. I'd be... Out aging everyone. Urianger too." The Warrior frowned, hunching slightly as Emet-Selch huffed. 

"Really, the _proper_ answer would be to elevate everyone to that state by completing the Ardor. However, considering we are of the _hope_ that we can buy enough time to stifle the incoming Doom, such will take far longer than your singular mortal life. Believe you me, I would be working for a way to ensure he was elevated as well. The _problem_ is that such was the job of Elidibus, and only possible through Zodiark's tempering. While the-Ryne _may_ be able to do something similar through Hydaelyn's blessing if she was taught how to, such would also weaken the Mothercrystal."

She grimaced. "The exact _opposite_ of what we're trying to do with Her."

"A problem for what you would consider the far future as well. I believe the order you will likely move through the objectives is cleaving the souls free of the Zodiark shards, coupled with discerning whom the opponent is. These two things are familiar to you in terms of execution." Stretching slightly under her, the Ascian tipped them both to the side so that he could cuddle against her as she laid back against the couch cushions. "... We proceeded without you, last time. None of us are keen to do so again. If that means finding a way to ensure your longevity, then I would not be surprised to discern that many have been doing their own research. Urianger will doubtless have the details by the time he returns to us. In the meantime, I _do_ believe we have a few hours. Be a dear and act as my pillow for the time being, will you?"

"Yeah yeah..."

* * *

Urianger reviewed his notes, mind buzzing with the possibilities. He had learned so much in so short a time that he felt _thankful_ for the way one of the Secrets of Hythlodaeus was a lesser version of the perfect memory of Emet-Selch. He could _feel_ the way he could re-shuffle and organize his thoughts, retaining more information than he could before and only having to clarify on a few points. Thirty days, Hades had said, was the general time limit for the average Hythlodaeus before they began to lose the picture perfect clarity of a memory. Hardly any time at all, but certainly more than enough to sort through what might be necessary to keep and what might be okay to set aside.

The elezen stepped through the door and closed his book, mouth opened to call out a greeting before he simply smiled and picked his way over to the couch where both of his lovers dozed. Predictably, the Warrior cracked an eye open and grumbled an incoherent invitation. She scooted, squished, drew a muttered grumble from the Ascian as he draped an arm across her and eventually made enough room for Urianger to tuck down practically atop her, one leg and one arm dangling off the couch but otherwise comfortable enough to tuck his head against her neck and slowly relax. 

Hades shifted an arm further around to anchor the astrologian, and together the three of them slowly dozed back off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how much I love reading the comments you all leave me?  
Because I do Q.Q


	20. Chapter 20

"Remember. Keep. Your mouth. _Shut._ I know it might be hard, but if this has any chance of working, the two of you should probably do this together."

"I can _do_ this on my _own_, Eschaton. I don't need-"

The Warrior threw her hands up, heaving a sigh that echoed through the Crystarium. "Already broken rule one! Buddy system saved Halmarut and Pashtarot's lives!"

"_Halmarult._"

"Eh?" She paused mid-step, blinking at Lahabrea as he strode past with a swish of robes. He didn't so much as pause to look back at her, simply tugged his hood lower and eyed the guards as they watched the two of them, leaving her to hustle to catch up. "Did you add an el to that?"

"The proper pronunciation is 'Halmarult'. It has always _been_ 'Halmarult', but even before the Sundering you refused to say it right. Because of that, everyone started saying it wrong, quoting that due to how it was a title as opposed to a name, it didn't matter as much. If you_ must_ continue to butcher it, at least do the original the honour of remembering it." As she drew level with him, he glanced at her and then stepped through the door to exit the Crystal Tower as it was held open for them. "... For the briefest span of time I managed to convince the Convocation to correct themselves, and then this reincarnation of _you_ came along and undid all of my work in less than the span of a decade."

"Y'know, I'm _actually_ sorry for that one? I had no idea. Though, that reminds me. I've gotta talk to you about speaking lessons."

Where her lack of momentum had failed to get him to so much as slow, her words froze him in place to leave her slowing her descent down the stairs and turning to study the Speaker with her head tilted and a hand propped on her hip. Silver-gold eyes studied her for a moment, before he slowly approached and shifted to frown at her. "What... Did you say?"

"I'm _pretty_ sure there's nothing wrong with your hearing. I'm trying to do the whole aether-speak thing and apparently I'm _horrible_ at it. So who better to ask than the master of linguistics and old languages himself?" A grin flashed across her face as she peered up at him, though it faded quickly into a thoughtful frown. "I can't say the thing I've been practicing, 'cause it's a _name_, but so long as you don't start making me speak in alliterations I'm game to try and learn."

"I would much rather teach you than embark on this... _Mission_." Folding his arms, Lahabrea scowled and stared out towards the aetherite plaza. "I still say I could do this on my own."

"Look, he's the best we've got. I _get_ that you Ascians have been sneaking around for multiple ages, I really do, but you're the strongest we can spare. I'd send Elidibus if we didn't have to keep dangling him out the proverbial window as _bait_. I think you're also the one with the highest personal combat abilities, so if things get hairy that means _you're_ the best bet."

"Simply because I have the highest defensive capabilities-"

"_Look,_ Emet-Selch's an inner city boy that can fight a lot of things, but he's also inherently a _sorcerer_ and one of the surefire ways to kill a sorcerer is to surprise them. Elidibus is... Well, _Elidibus_. Of everyone's Fightey-things, the Architect has a big stick and the Emissary got a whip. _You__'re_ the one with an actual weapon." The Warrior stretched idly, before turning and starting to continue down the stairs, a thoughtful Lahabrea in tow.

"The form the weapon of office took for Elidibus is that of a whip? I never knew." Shrugging slightly, the Speaker followed and hummed. "You... Do, potentially, have a plausible point. My trident truly tips the balance towards myself in this scenario. How do you know about the Emissary's weapon? I've never seen him use it in a fight, much less fight seriously."

"I pissed him off once, before the Sundering. We fought, and I'd just about kicked his ass before he surprised me with it. That surprise _cost_ me." A grimace crossed her features, and she scrubbed a hand across her masked face before gesturing to the aetherite. "There they are. 'Lo, Thancred! Ryne!"

"Hero. I got your letter. Everything seems fine here on the First, mi..." The gunbreaker stopped in his tracks, staring at the masked Ascian that trailed in the Warrior's wake. A hand drifted up to the weapon across his back as his stare became a glare and turned towards Priscilla. "One thing after another with you, isn't it. When, exactly, do you plan to stop _shitting_ on me."

"Look, Hydaelyn brought him back, not _me, _I'm just using the resources available. He gave Urianger something that apparently helped him, fought on the Thirteenth on our side and doesn't like this any more than _you_ do." Holding both hands up, she grimaced and cleared her throat. "Which, I mean, if you like the fact that he's back so little now, you're gunna like what comes out've my mouth next a whole lot less."

"_No_."

"Listen, 'Cred-"

"What part of _no_ did you miss, Priscilla?" Parking himself squarely between the Speaker and Ryne, the gunblade let his upper lip curl into a sneer. "I've thought the direction you were going in to be a terrible one ever since you let the Garlean bastard hang about your heels, and this just _proves_ it."

"I told you I can do this on my own, Eschaton." Lahabrea folded his arms, turning to face the Warrior. "He _clearly_ doesn't care about setting aside differences for the fate of the Star. Best to leave him here, while the people who can actually _do_ something about it get to work."

"What did you say?" Thancred's mounting anger was a palpable thing, and the former oracle behind him gasped and took a step back. "You _whoreson_, you don't care about the world you want to destroy it-"

"Everything I have _ever_ attempted, has been for the good of the Star." Spinning to face the gunblade, the Speaker lifted his chin. "For my _people__!_ Was I misled in this regard by my Tempering? I would very much like to see how _you_ might have fared against the touch of a Primal of such stature. You, who couldn't even fend _me_ off, would get bent over like a two-gil hooker on a La Noscean Dock, just as your _mother_ was-"

Lahabrea's next words were lost to the enraged shout that came from Thancred as he charged forward, and the sharp retort of his weapon firing on contact with the trident that had manifested in front of the Ascian echoed off the buildings. The guards in the vicinity started to rush over before the Warrior called out to them and waved them back, having already moved to stand next to Ryne and keep her clear of the fight while the Speaker backpedaled into the open space to give them both more room. Another retort went off, and the Ascian slid backwards out of the resulting cloud of smoke only to reverse his grip on the trident and use the butt end to catch the hyur in the stomach and spoil Thancred's pursuit. 

"Look at you. _Pathetic_. Losing your temper so easily is exactly what let me get into your head the first time." A sideways swipe with the trident knocked the recovering gunblade back, before it was partially tucked behind the Speaker's back. Gesturing to where Thancred wheezed and regained his feet, the Ascian scoffed. "Is this all you amount to? A worthless, writhing -worm-? If I even deigned to allow you to accompany me on this mission, all you would do is _hold me back_."

"By the Twelve, do you _never_ shut up?" A quick change of the cartridges in the gunblade's weapons had him prepped for his next bolt forward, only to crash through the thin pane of ice that had nigh invisibly crept up between them. Staggering, he slipped on the frost-slicked stones behind it and slide the last few feet towards Lahabrea, who stopped his momentum with the non-tined end of his weapon. Looking up, he snarled at the smirk he found across the Speakers face before swinging with the gunblade in his hand. A sharp _crack_ rang out, the explosive force behind the blow destroying some of the flagstones and sending Lahabrea skidding back defensively once more. 

* * *

"They... They've been at it for a long time, haven't they." Ryne frowned, hands clasped together at the neck of her down as she watched both men crash across the courtyard. "Thancred is getting tired."

"So's Lahabrea, to be fair. With how thin the aether is here on the First compared to the abundance on the Source, he's had to work carefully this entire time. Might be why he's limited himself to mostly just physical stuff, but I wouldn't count either've them out for another half hour or so. I'm more worried about 'Cred running out've cartridges." The Warrior stretched idly, before glancing over at where the G'raha had joined them and was managing the barrier that separated the crowd from the fighters. "How're you holding up, Exarch?"

"You needn't worry about me, Hero. I could maintain this indefinitely, provided I remained within the Crystarium." A rueful smile was aimed her way, and she snickered as she gently jostled him with a shoulder. 

"Glad I am to hear that. I heard rumors that your leash had gotten shorter and worried for you." Looking back at where Thancred had successfully managed to disarm the Ascian, she winced as he recoiled from a particularly strong left cross that sent him staggering. It bought the Speaker enough time to dash across the dozen or so fulms to his trident, scooping it up and immediately assuming a defensive stance once more as the gunblade charged across the cracked and damaged stones. "Oof. I think he broke his nose with that one."

"I can't... Exarch, let me in. I can't watch them fight senselessly any more!" The former Oracle tugged lightly on the Tia's robes, and he shook his head as he glanced at her. 

"I cannot in good conscience-"

"So it was okay for you to risk yourself, but not her?" Quirking a brow, the Warrior caught G'raha's eye and smiled sheepishly as his ears wilted back and down. "Yeah, sorry, that was uncalled for. I've actually gotten an idea though."

* * *

Thancred felt weary down to the marrow of his bones. Lahabrea must have as well, because some time ago he had stopped bothering with barbs and started saving his breath for their actual fight. It was _infuriating_, the way that the Ascian fought defensively and only retaliated with a swat here or there. It felt like he was being _toyed_ with, and it simply fueled his anger even more. Anger at Lahabrea. Anger at himself, for having been taken over. Anger at what had been done while the Speaker had possessed his body.

There was a bottomless well of it that he tapped into. He just hoped his body could keep up, and that he could do some _real_ damage. If nothing else, he wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his face, but that was going about as well as anything seemed to be these days.

He _knew_ Lahabrea, however. Knew what he fought like, knew where to _make_ a hole if no hole presented itself. A swipe across with his gunblade and squeeze of the trigger rocked another sharp retort off, the sound echoing back as he knocked the Trident aside and lunged, watching how the Speaker swapped ends with the momentum to try and catch the blade between the tines of his trident and fired off another round to knock the weapon down, embedding it into the ground. Whipping around to bring it to bear once more, he triggered the last cartridge to give his swing extra momentum-

-A shout, his name, and carrot-orange hair was suddenly between the two of them-

The Speaker lunged, got his arm around the girl and twisted to put himself in the way, catching the gunblade across the shoulder. The blow flattened Lahabrea and Ryne both with a surge of cold air that had manifested along with a thick chunk of ice that had shattered with the worst of the blow, and the gunblade gawked as the smoke cleared.

"Ryne!"

"Hero!" 

"I should've seen that coming? But I seriously thought both've them were just gunna back off. Still alive, Bythos?" The figure that wore Ryne's appearance slowly sat up and picked the groaning dragonet up, illusion shimmering and fading to reveal the ash-blond rogue as she grinned. 

_[To you goes the entirety of my enmity, Eschaton. I thought you were the girl. Do you realize how much effort went into that form?]_

"Sort've the point. None've us wanted to live with an accident if she got hurt and, well, if I get whumped at least I bounce better." The Warrior draped Lahabrea over her shoulder as she pushed herself up, collecting the trident as she went. "Lot've us were getting sick and tired of waiting for the two've you to finish beating the shi-not, snot out've each other. I've got _places to be_, and if the two've you aren't going to work together, that means me and the Architect are going to have to go out and do recon. And there's _other_ things we've gotta do that are equally important." 

"Recon?" The Gunblade sat down heavily as Ryne - the _real_ Ryne - came over and gripped his arm, checking him over for injuries and frowning. "Are you alright?"

"I am. I didn't want the Warrior to do it, but it was the only way they would let me through the barrier." The former Oracle sat down next to him, sighing in relief as she confirmed that he was more battered and bruised than actually hurt. 

"Thancred, look." Priscilla heaved a sigh, holding the trident closer to Lahabrea so that the dragonet could tap it with a claw and dismiss the weapon. "There's someone out there still leading the Voidsent. You're _literally_ the best we've got that we can ask to go and look into it. Elidibus has gotta stick around the Source so we can dangle him like bait, and Emet-Selch's gotta stick with me 'cause we need to hit the fragments of Zodiark left in orbit around the Shards, and Igeyorhm isn't strong enough to shepherd that many souls. That leaves _Laheebread_-"

Sharp claws were introduced to her scalp as the dragonet took offense to her mangling of his name, and she continued on with a wince and peeled Lahabrea off of her head.

"-Alright, alright, _the Squeaker_ as the only Paragon left to look around. He can teleport. You can sneak. Buddy system, remember?"

_[The -Squeaker-? Really?]_

"I heard about the Vidofnir squish. Besides, consider it a test of temperance." A grin was offered to the dragonet, who growled and curled as best he could in her grasp. "Well, Thancred? C'mon, we _really_ need you on this. And lookit him! You could stuff him in a pocket and nobody'd know he was there! Provided, of course, he managed to keep his mouth shut."

"He's responsible for the deaths of countless in Praetorium, on top of everything he made me to." The gunblade glared, before it faded into a grimace. "... Why do I get the feeling I'm about to have the 'Emet-Selch Murderer' conversation thrown in my face again."

"Probably 'cause that's exactly what I was gunna do. He knows what he's done. He's worked at trying to set it right. He knows he's fucked up. He knows he's gotta work to clear that debt. He actively worked to save my bacon on the Thirteenth, and you should see how he mothers the other Ascians. It's not like he's going to possess you again, he knows better now." An easy, idle smile was offered to Thancred before it was diverted to where the Exarch had approached them. 

"On the topic of clearing debts, both of you seem to have done a fair bit of damage to the roads." 

"Don't worry about it, G'raha. I'll get the Architect on it as soon as he comes by to pick me up." The Warrior's smile turned sheepish, and she leaned over to deposit the dragonet into Ryne's lap. "Speaking of, I should probably get going. King's expecting me, and I'm late enough as it is. -Try- not to kill each other? Please?"

"No promises." The gunblade eyed Lahabrea as he hissed and grumbled, perching atop one of the former Oracle's knees. 

_[-Fine-.]_


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Mention of uncomfortable topics such as but not limited to rape and torture

Lahabrea, old as he was, was possessed of something of a mercurial temperament. Dealing with Thancred's constant ire was grating in and of itself, however... This only served to make what he was going through _that much more difficult. _Yet still, every time he opened his fanged maw to say something the Eschaton's words drifted through his mind. 

_"I can't say the thing I've been practicing, 'cause it's a name, but so long as you don't start making me speak in alliterations I'm game to try and learn."_

He might have a proper _student_ soon. The Botanist was usually very deliberate with what she said and when, for all that it came easily to her. That meant it had been offered as a _bribe_. A carrot, dangled before the stick. That she had known they were going to fight was evident by how she had stayed out of it for so long, but now... 

"I'm _still_ not working with you."

The Speaker closed his eyes, and let a slow sigh escape him. In and out, as calming as the tides. He could do this. He had put up with _Emet-Selch_ for countless ages, after all. 

_[Consider me your personal teleportation device and no more, then, as Mitron was for Ryne. Pocket sized and all.]_

"I don't want you anywhere near me at_ all._" The hyur growled back at the dragonet that was fluttering along behind him. "What part of sod off did you misunderstand?"

_[Fine.]_

"Finally-"

The dragonet shimmered, before ice expanded outwards from his body. It shifted, shaping and forming into an Ascian-shaped mass that then gained colour and smoothed under the illusion of the Speaker himself. "You are _determined_ to be irreconcilable. Which of my brethren best bolsters your moral? I'll simply fetch them."

"Just like that? Barely half an hour after the Warrior of Light leaves, and you're giving up?" The gunblade turned to glare at Lahabrea, who folded his arms. 

"'Tis clear you want me gone, and that I cannot convince you otherwise. Yet still, you needs must do this thing to gather information across the Shards. While I have a vast repertoire of knowledge when it comes to them, which the lack of _will_ act as an utter handicap for you, Eschaton was adamant and unyielding about it being _you_ that goes. This means I needs must ensure you have a proper method of crossing the void. The original methods I was going to suggest of course, is that I simply take you myself and we go our separate ways until such time as we needs must travel to another Shard, but you have yet to open your ears and _listen_."

"You called my mother a _two-gil hooker._" Thancred folded his arms, scowling. "And not _once_ made any attempt to show that you were sorry in the slightest for anything you've ever done."

"You were spoiling for a fight and I simply gave you the means with which to do so legally. If you have any _suggestions_ on how I might earn some measure of forgiveness that leads not to my _death_, by all means. _Educate_ me." The Ascian spread his arms in invitation, before letting them drop to his sides as the gunblade scoffed. 

"Can you even _hear_ yourself? I don't _need_ a legal right to shoot you. Not for what you've done."

"Then suggest ways to-"

"You think you could _ever_ do enough to earn forgiveness?" Thancred stalked closer, uncrossing his arms and reaching up to rest one on the hilt of the weapon across his back. His voice dropped to a raw hiss that veritably dripped vile disgust. "You practically_ raped _me. You _stole_ my body, used it for your own purposes, and tried to kill my best friends with it. And that's just in _this_ lifetime, not to mention all the lives lost at Praetorium when you triggered Ultima. You, personally, are responsible for countless lives lost. For countless bodies stolen. Even the one you're in now _isn't yours._ You have _no_ right, to be alive and breathing after everything that you've done. You and Elidibus both were responsible for Thordan. Every ill thing that's happened on this Twelve-damned Star, was _yours _and the_ Ascian's _fault." 

The Speaker stifled every retort, every reaction, and did his best Elidibus impression. The smile that crossed his face looked more as if he had swallowed a fly, but he otherwise managed to keep silent. 

"_You_ sank Krile's home, and killed countless Sharlayans. Do you know what's worse? _You_ and your _forces_ created Lady Amandine, who _tortured and raped Priscilla_. For the life of me, I don't understand how she can go five minutes in your presence without _spitting_ on you. But you _know_ that part, don't you, from when you _rifled through my mind_." The hyur was a mere inch from Lahabrea's face, snarling and spitting, and the Speaker finally cracked. 

"You think I deserve death? Eschaton very clearly told me that I don't_ get _to die. That death is too _good_ for me. That just like every other Ascian she has freed, I get to spend the rest of my _miserable existence_ dismantling everything I ever did to further my goals under Zodiark's influence. Lucky _me_, I get to go through yet another _Screaming Doom_ that warps and corrodes the very laws of existence and watch everything _go to hell_. -Again-." The Ascian's voice had matched the tone of the gunblade's, bitter and caustic all at once before he caught himself and grit his teeth, wondering how the Emissary managed to make it look so easy. "I have pulled Sharlayan up from the seas that _I_ did not sink her under. I have gone to Ishgard and lessened the glaciers that remain to try and give them more farmland, that they might grow food and continue to support themselves. I have fought beside the Warrior of Light when she went through to the Thirteenth and held the line when others could not. I have spoken with Tiamat and _very nearly_ convinced her to return in defense of this Star. I have tended to my people, I have tended to _yours_, and I will continue to do these things until this Star cracks open and the very shores, seas and skies fail to sustain the lives of all those _you_ cherish."

"And I know, that this is yet not _enough_." The Speaker lifted his chin, cutting off Thancred as he started to interrupt and feeling one of his Secrets tickle out to keep the hyur silent for a moment more. "It will _never_, be enough, and yet I am set upon this course to try regardless. So I will _say_, one final time, that if you have any _suggestions_ on how I might do more for this fragile, doomed world before the End, that will not lead to my death by all means. _Educate_ me."

* * *

The Warrior sneezed, before glancing around where she was seated practically in Titania's lap at the field of flowers they found themselves in. 

"Steady, my precious [sapling], else this braid will be uneven." 

"Sorry, Feo Ul. Feel like someone's talkin' about me, is all. Anyways, as I was saying, I just... I dunno. I don't know what to do. You're the one that lurked in his dreams and perpetuated them. So..." Clearing her throat, Priscilla folded her hands neatly in her lap and resumed looking straight ahead at the view of the lake and the castle. "Yeah. What do."

"Loving, loving and beloved! My wee [precious willow], that you should come to us for this answer, is a delight and honour!" King Titania crooned and left the mass of braids alone for a moment so that she could rub her hands together and make sure she remained seated as her wings beat behind her, sending small gusts of wind rippling through the flowers. "Well then. Let me start, by saying that consent is but_ one_ of the most important things. Tricky as it might seem, always remember to make sure that you first have consent to do what you plan to. There are many unsafe things that can be done, which is why this is important. Trust, after all, should be the foundation of any true relationship." 

"Alright, I follow so far." 

"The next would be a safe word. A phrase that, if they speak it or indicate it, means they've reached the point where they're no longer having fun." Feo Ul sighed, and resumed weaving tiny braids into the Warrior's hair. "Too many mortals reach that point for us to really want to play with them any more. 'Tis a hard rule, that should one of your partners state their safeword that all playing is to stop and they are to be tended to."

"Makes sense. There's much and then _too_ much, after all." Frowning thoughtfully, she reached up to pull her mask free and then held it up before her, eyes tracing the geometric design on the forehead. 

"Exactly! My [baby sproutling], you'll catch the shape of it yet! Next, communication is key, and it ties into consent. You can't just start _swatting bums_. So make sure you ask."

"I mean that's true for anything sex-based. Like you don't just stick your fingers in someone's peach-hole, you ask first. That's just _common sense_." The Warrior grimaced and set the mask down on her lap, fighting the urge to shake her head. Feo Ul giggled behind her. 

"That's true, aye, however! Common sense is -not- exactly always the most common! Now, one of the things that might vary from what you might view as the standard, however, is the concept of _power_. Our [Riddlemaster] loves to be told what to do, but also can be _very_ sneaky about it. Of the three in that group, I would say that you are the 'leader' and the other two are the 'followers'. If you command them, they will obey. Your immortal, is like this too, though for different reasons." Another braid was tied off with the tiniest curl of a vine, and the fae hummed as she started on another section. "Oh, but both of them have the potential to do other than follow, but for both of them denial has a certain strength and appeal."

"So like when I made him jack off in front of me, while another of his clones ate me out, that would be better than, say, regular sex?" The Warrior squinted thoughtfully at the giant wings that hung off the back of the castle, idly rubbing the mask between her hands

"Only he can answer that, my [precious sapling]. But I would say it's less one being better than the other, and more like eating fruit. Some days, you want a cherry. Others, a peach. I'm sure _you_ have preferences sometimes."

"That's... Fair, yeah." A slight shrug lifted her shoulders as she worked to remain as still as she could. "What's next?"

"Aftercare, [baby sproutling]! Once all is said and done, it is the responsibility for all involved parties to make sure everyone is safe and happy, warm and clean after the fact. Take _care_ of your lovers. It wouldn't be a bad idea to check in the middle of moments too, if something seems rather strenuous." A gentle tilt turned the Warrior's face slightly to the side so that King Titania could study the braids and hum contently, tying off another.

"So the big question becomes how do I _do_ this stuff?"

Feo Ul _giggled,_ and leaned in to murmur next to the Warrior's ear.

* * *

Priscilla was glad for the long flight back to the Crystarium. It gave her face time to lose the tomato-red colouration it had gained, though she kept the braids Feo Ul had given her. Even if they hadn't been the price for advice she found she kind of liked them, despite the added weight. King Titania had even made sure that most of them stuck out at odd angles, which had put a smile on her face. They were always just the _best_ when it came to the crazy stuff.

Still, nothing could have prepared her for what she came back to. 

Thancred was scowling at Lahabrea and Emet-Selch both as the air about them buzzed and hummed with the aetherical language of the ancients. Pale-gold eyes flit over to the Warrior as the Architect offered a one-handed wave, the other still extended out towards the rapidly mending cobblestones. She waved back and squinted at them as her Echo picked it up and translated it into something she could understand.

**<-eally don't see the problem. He agreed in the end, did he not? 'Tis what matters.>**

_[That's the point. You_ _-don't__\- see the problem. This is going to go sideways the moment we leave. I would rather have a back-up plan in place in the event he decides to-] _"-Eschaton. What... Happened?" The Speaker stared at the braids, lips curling under his mask as he slowly unfolded his arms. 

"King Titania. I need about another three dozen or so folks to see them before I can take'em out. I like'em, though, despite the heft." She offered Lahabrea a grin, before clapping a hand on Thancred's shoulder. "Get everything sorted? Are you good for going and looking into this thing for us?"

"We worked something out, and then -that- showed up and they started filling the air with a language that I couldn't understand." The gunblade lifted his chin towards the Architect. "Fortunately it seems he's at least good for something."

"This _does_ bring to mind a certain time in the Rak'tika Greatwoods. Do you stand by your words then?" Emet-Selch turned to properly address the white-haired hyur, who scoffed at him.

"If you brought an ivory standard, sure." 

"You _wound_ me. I -meant- about Lahabrea and I." Tucking his free hand to his chest, the Architect pouted where he stood and glanced back at the now pristine road that had finished reconstructing itself. "There. That should do it."

"I'm not gunna question too closely, and just be thankful that neither of you are going to try and kill each other until after you've gone out and looked for whatever it is we need to watch out for. Are you ready to go, Emet-Selch?" Squeezing the gunblade's shoulder, the Warrior turned a slight smile from Thancred towards the Architect as he hummed and sauntered over. 

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. Shall we head to the crellbron's world first? At least, should we be attacked we might find allies if we need to strategically retreat." 

"I was thinking the Devourer's, actually. Less of a strain on you to go back and forth, and we're still figuring things out. Until we've got this down to a routine, I'd like to make it as simple as possible." Stretching, Priscilla moved to meet him part way and then leaned a little bit out to peer at the Speaker. "I trust you won't just up and abandon him?"

"You have my word, Eschaton."

"Perfect. Alright, let's go then." She smiled up at Hades as he collected her hand and threaded his fingers between her own, and together they vanished into the rift he pulled about them with a snap.


	22. Chapter 22

He followed them.

He couldn't help it, really. Watching the ways that _her_ soul lit up when the two of them interacted was as cathartic as it was bittersweet. Emet-Selch would make some quip, and she would snicker as they stood on a mountain and watched the moon, waiting for the Architect to recover his strength. It was small moments like this where Emet-Selch would let his soul unfurl just a little bit, just enough that if she watched him and could see it, she could note the colours and patterns of his soul. 

It was... Nostalgic. For all that his soul had once been a glossy, midnight-amethyst edged in royal shades of the colour and set with golden stars, it had long since been stained by Zodiark into a matte version. The vibrancy had dimmed, the long eons taking their toll. But, for what he saw before him... 

In bits and pieces, even steeped in darkness and void energies as he was, the Architect that draped himself over the Warrior's shoulders from behind to hug her and nuzzle against her neck had come much closer to his original hues than _he_ ever could. It was like looking into a mirror of the past where somehow, some of the cracks and craters had been shored up and filled with epoxy glue to better hold everything together. No, that wasn't right. The shoebill idly clicked his beak as he watched them, fighting down the mix of disgruntled jealousy and nostalgia. 

It was _healing_ that he was looking at. Like a broken bone that was growing stronger for every day it was allowed to mend the break.

He slipped away and stepped through a portal as subtly as he could, feeling sick.

* * *

"Something troubles you, little Monster."

"I could've sworn for a second there it felt like we were being watched, but... I dunno. Did you notice anything?" The Warrior shifted slightly in his grasp, twisting to peer around him and frowning at the utter lack of anything visible beyond rocks and (likely poisonous) scrub. The Ascian frowned faintly, casting about with his aetheric senses before slowly shaking his head. 

"Hmm, no, but 'tis not impossible that whatever it was may have compensated for my abilities. Considering your inexplicable tendency towards surviving against the odds, regardless of how much of that is tied to your Echo, I would trust your senses over mine for these things." Emet-Selch tightened his arms around her in a brief hug before sighing and looking up towards the moon. "... Are you worried I might succumb again?"

"I mean, yeah. There's always that worry. You _froze_ last time, but you shook it off. So that means it can be beaten, if you manage to muster yourself enough. And sure, I hope that it's as simple as going in, whacking it and you just carting the souls away but... I dunno. We're both still figuring this out. Maybe this time we can take a moment to actually see what we're trying to do instead of madly scrambling." She leaned a little more of her weight against the solid chest behind her, sighing softly. "... I'm _pretty_ sure that the Eschaton portrait's good to go, but if everything explodes..." 

"I am _not_ leaving you there." The words were ground out between grit teeth as the Ascian tensed, eyes narrowing. A clumsy brush of her soul against his drew a huff from him as he pressed a quick kiss against the side of her head, and he reluctantly straightened and moved to stand beside her.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't ask that, there's no point. Just that you be careful, alright?" The Warrior nudged him in the side, before nodding up towards the moon. "You ready?"

"More prepared than I was the last time, little Monster. But what of yourself?" Emet-Selch followed her gaze upwards, even as his aetheric senses watched the contemplative way her aether curled. 

"I don't think I was ever ready, y'know. Not for the primals, not for the Ascians, not for anything. But I'm still gunna do it, 'cause if I don't then it all keeps going to _shit_, doesn't it. 'Cause that means you go back to triggering Calamities and the Ardor, and I think there's been enough death on that front already. I'm stalling though. Let's get it done, yeah?" She glanced over at him, before snagging his hand with hers and bringing it up to her face to press a gentle kiss against the back of his gloved knuckles. It earned her a side-eye and a smirk from the Architect before he stepped forward and pulled a rift about them. 

They stepped out onto the surface of the moon, and she instinctively tugged herself closer to him and braced herself for the cold that didn't come. An experimental breath had her blinking and glancing about, looking for the shimmer of a barrier and finding none. Instead, she glanced towards the Ascian as he drifted and opened her mouth to speak, tensing once more as no sounds emerged. Her mounting distress drew Emet-Selch's attention, and he pivoted to blink curiously at her. 

**<Whatever is the matter? The mask appears to be sustaining you properly.>**

She gestured to her throat and then mouthed a series of words, drawing a silent huff from the Architect as he tugged her against his side. 

**<Of _course_ you cannot speak out here. 'Tis a vacuum. There is no air to vibrate. Why do you think I was attempting to teach you how to at least call my _name_?>**

The Warrior sullenly hunched her shoulders and wrapped both arms around his chest, disliking the fact that if they got separated she had little and less for options. 

**<I have already looked for voidsent. Either there are none, or they are simply very good at hiding. Either way, this strikes me as too easy.>**

One arm wrapped about her shoulders, he touched them both down to the surface of the moon with a small puff of lazily drifting dust. A gesture out towards one of the craters nearby was all she needed for direction, and nodded as she let go of him so that she could stoop to collect a handful of the grit that coated the ground. Rubbing it between her hands, she grimaced once more and realized that bolting places would probably be a bad idea, in that momentum carried and there wasn't a whole lot of grip to be had. A mote of grey against the stark white of the ground caught her attention, and she froze as she met the eyes of a shoebill standing next to a rock off to her right. 

_<<Hhhdzzz.>>_

**<Hmm? What is it?>**

The shoebill turned and stepped behind the rock as she dug in and pushed herself along. Sliding to a halt as she snagged the rock, she looked around and frowned as the bird was nowhere to be found and then crouched down to try and study the ground. No footprints, and the brief tickle of the Architect's aether across her had her glancing up as he drifted to a halt nearby, brows furrowed. The Warrior shifted a little to the side and started to sketch in the loose grit. 

**<A large beaked bird with frowny eyebrows and a cowlick? Long legs. Why are you drawing a boot- Shoebill. You saw a shoebill? Here?>**

Tapping her nose, the Warrior took a step towards him so that she could snag his coat and look around, the other hand resting on the hilt of one of her swords as Emet-Selch reached to work his fingers around one of her belts. They spent a moment studying the terrain, before he shook his head and started to drift towards the crater that was their original destination. 

**<As much as I would like to take more time looking around, your mask can only sustain you for a limited time.>**

* * *

"Seven hells, I do _not_ like that." The Warrior scrubbed her face as they ambled along the tunnel that dipped through the moon. She stretched and shifted, trying to get used to the way the gravity was still just a little _off_ compared to the Star, and hustled to keep up with the still floating Ascian that drifted along ahead of her. He hummed in agreement, one hand held palm up to cradle the mote of light that he had pulled into being. 

"'Tis plain to see that moons simply do not agree with you, little Monster. Clearly, someone knows of my involvement with the bird and is taking delight in _goading_ me."

"Wait, involvement?" The word had a lot of meanings, and she sorted through them as she followed along. "What sort?"

"I designed it. It was the first, and only, living concept I ever submitted. You challenged me to do so, saying - and I _quote_ \- that working with something that had an actual heartbeat might do me some good, never mind how cities have their own pulse. I keep one with me as a memento, locked in stasis so that it neither ages nor requires sustenance." His other hand waved idly, as if to dismiss the matter. "You teased me for ages, regardless of how anatomically sound it is."

"Yeah, sounds about right. I wonder, though. Why let me see it first? Why make it disappear when I called for you?" Frowning, she skipped forward a bit faster so that she could draw level with him, glancing around. The tunnel continued to descend on an angle, and she grimaced faintly at the building sense of unease that seemed to make the thin air taste sour. "If Elidibus built the one on the Thirteenth's moon, who built this one?"

"I couldn't possibly theorize at this time, save for some sort of tactics to put us on edge. Hmm, 'tis still the work of the Emissary. While he dwelled with the shard of Zodiark on the Thirteenth once it was ruined by the void, he built rudimentary access points to all of them, I believe. There. The door comes into view." 

"And you're sure you'll be alright?"

"In the event that I stand there with a look on my face befitting Thancred's level of intelligence, you have my express permission to _slap_ me. Who knows, it might even _work_." A slight smirk was offered to the Warrior as she snorted and moved ahead, reaching the door and resting one hand against it. Emet-Selch took a deep breath and touched down next to her, a brief flick of his free hand pulling his staff into existence. "... Ladies first."

"Says the one in the _dress_." Still, she grinned and pushed the door open to reveal a long, unlit chamber. The Ascian with her poked his head in and gestured, the mote of light in the palm of his hand rising and splitting before flitting out to settle in each of the empty sconces set into the walls. A statue of Zodiark dominated the far end of the room, and as they both carefully stepped in they each did a quick survey for anything that might have seemed dangerous. 

"_Robes_, little Monster. And I _am_ wearing leggings under them. Garlemald -is- a cold climate, after all. The more layers the better." 

"Seems safe enough... I'm not seein' a whole lot of giant red crystal though. Yeah, that's fair about Garlemald. It's still totally a dress though." Making her way through the large, and largely empty room, the Warrior grimaced and started to search the walls as if expecting a secret or hidden door somewhere. 

"Elidibus dug rather deeper into the moon of the Thirteenth. This _is_ the closest point, however. Come, this spot here shall do." One hand raising to recall the motes of light to his palm, Emet-Selch stood before the statue and waited for her to join him before wrapping his arm around her waist. A brief look of concentration crossed his features before she yelped and gripped at his coat, the floor beneath them flickering and vanishing out from under their feet. 

"... Sorry. Not used to standing on a false floor and having it go out from under me." 

"An entirely reasonable reaction from someone who cannot fly. There, I have tethered the light and flying to the staff and ask that you _please_ do not sever these spells." Huffing, he drifted the two of them down the shaft he had roughly carved out, until they both touched down in front of a smooth piece of black crystal. "We have arrived."

* * *

He could kill them both. It would be _easy_, he thought to himself as he tracked their progress. A simple dropped dimensional anchor to prevent teleportation, a sudden push against the secret that had dematerialized the stone, and at least one of them would get caught by the re-materialization. It was deep enough that the natural resolution of being shunted to the closest 'safe' space would tear whoever was caught to shreds before they were ejected as a pile of viscera and gore. A beak clicked quietly as he stared down into the hole and weighed his options, before deciding to stick with the original plan. 

Better to counter them once he knew exactly what they were doing. 

Sure, Emet-Selch might have been able to survive it, but he was an aetheric being. Because of this, his first instinct would be to protect the Warrior, and if both teleportation and push with his own Secret failed to grant him the space needed for her physical form, he would likely carve into the rock to make a space and take the damage that would incur. It would necessitate cushioning her against the mass of the moon as it pressed back against the sudden expansion. The only give he would find in the immediate area would be within the space that Zodiark occupied, which would awaken that part of the Primal. 

A plan for another moon, and another fragment. For now, he watched. He studied the way the Architect braced himself defensively, the way Eschaton's aether flared, the silver strands pulling into alignment to produce a mimicry of the real thing and then the way a single blade reached out to almost gently tap against the slumbering mass before them. He watched the way the aether was sundered, the way Emet-Selch reached to cradle and hold the thousands of souls that were neatly and carefully pulled free, and studied the way Zodiark continued to slumber, oblivious. 

They were as soft and quiet as _thieves_, he realized. Stealing precious rings from the fingers of a sleeping nobleman. Retreating to the statue itself, he watched as they drifted up and the hole closed beneath them as if it had never existed in the first place. 

A rift opened and the two of them stepped through together, leaving him to click his beak and turn the new information over in his mind as an idea began to take shape. 

Yes, he realized. That would do _nicely_.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love -every single- comment that you all leave. I'm sorry that I don't get around to replying to them all that often T.T  
Onwards and upwards!  
^.^  
Something of a shorter chapter, but hey, I go home in half an hour and I'll have people over the rest of the day so...  
TADA~!

They hit one of the shards and 'split up'. 

Really, what that meant was they both turned and walked in different directions for the count of ten until Lahabrea smothered his presence, released the ice construct and illusions, and flit about as a dragonet to subtly followed the gunblade at a distance, scanning the ambient aether all the while. It was easy enough to do, considering he could refract light to grant himself some semblance of invisibility. Combined with how Ascians had been sneaking around for literal ages before the hyur had been born, the Speaker felt it to be almost insulting that he had to _babysit_.

But he didn't say that. He kept his thoughts close to his chest, tracked Thancred's progress and ignored the things he had to step in to keep up. He hadn't been thinking, clearly, when he had brought them to the Fourth shard. The gravity was ridiculous, and it made flight with his smaller frame and still too-small wings nigh impossible. The faintest trickle of aether gave his body the strength it needed, and as he watched the rogue slip through one of the side-streets of the ruined buildings of what had, a few months ago, been one of the capitals of the Shard he also flattened down and tucked his tail in to keep hidden. 

A pair of succubi drifted past, chattering and giggling about their glorious conquest. By the time they were gone and he had slipped across the road to the alley, the gunblade was gone. 

Lahabrea stifled the curses that rose to his muzzle before scurrying along, trying to find him again.

* * *

By the time they returned to Azys Lla, Emet-Selch was beyond tired, bordering on exhaustion. He explained it as a larger load -which had them all silently lamenting whatever souls he had missed when the Thirteenth's shard of Zodiark had burst out towards the Source - coupled with having to wade through the sea of light that Hydaelyn drifted upon. To move himself through the void was easy. To move himself plus another, a hassle. Himself, the Warrior, _plus_ countless souls was a burden that he expected to be pampered for once he woke up. Which, he admitted as he mumbled into a pillow on the bed, likely wouldn't be for a few days so please and thank you keep it _down_ and keep him undisturbed.

Priscilla compensated by promptly removing herself from the equation, leaving him in Urianger's care and pestering Elidibus for a trip to Ul'dah. The Emissary agreed easily, for all that he quirked a brow as she _insisted_ that he come back to pick her up in a few hours, slightly flustered and already fleeing down one of the roads. The Emissary thought about it, seriously considered going back to the floating Allagan fortress, and instead promptly glamoured himself to look different and casually slunk after her. 

It was easy to follow her at a distance, even to one that lacked the sight of Igeyorhm or Emet-Selch. One of them had a trained specialty, the other a natural _gift_, but even without those it was still simply a matter of picking out the most robust soul in the crowd. At least, it was until another one crossed her path. At that point he had to physically step around a corner and drop to 'tie' one of his shoelaces, glancing to take in the white-haired man with a hammer at his waist and some sort of suit that appeared to be too small for him that was doing the most ridiculous dance he had ever seen. He didn't have to look to know that Eschaton was doing the exact same thing, and she leapt to hug the man with a cackle once they were both done. 

An old friend then, and a good one. There was a time when that had been him. 

Shaking his head, he pushed himself up and paused as he felt a presence behind him. He didn't glance back, knowing instinctively that to do so would be to invite danger, and instead brushed himself off so that he could continue up the stairs and pass the two conversing in the hallway. The presence faded the further he traveled, and as he stepped to the side behind a pillar, he pulled his vessel into a rift and watched through the aether. 

A woman poked her head around the pillar, hair in pigtails. There was a long moment spent in quiet contemplation and study before she shrugged and turned to amble away, leaving him to ease himself back out so that he could resume following the Warrior as she parted ways with the white haired man. He didn't make it nearly as far as he would have liked, as when she entered the Leatherworker's guild a hand clamped down on his shoulder and firmly rooted him place. 

Diplomatic Smile Number Three settled across his face, and the dark-eyed youthful vessel he had turned slowly to aim it at the white-bearded monster of a man behind him. 

"Now, I don't know what a young man such as yourself might be doing following a young woman around, but it is decidedly _not_ the gentlemanly thing to do."

* * *

The Warrior glanced towards the door as Godbert stepped in, physically having picked up what looked like an elezen thaumaturge by the back of his robes. Pinking slightly across the face as she dumped the leather bracelet she had been looking at back into the display, she cleared her throat and ambled over to meet him half way, letting the disgruntlement at who she believed his cargo to be wear away the embarrassment of what she had gone there to buy. 

"Ophi?"

"Hello, Percy."

She relaxed marginally, before waving her hands at the highlander. "It's alright, Godbert. You can put him down. What happened?"

"He was following you. Seems odd, for someone professing to be such a good friend of yours to be acting so... Snake-like." Obligingly, the short elezen was set onto his feet so that he could brush his robes off and straighten himself out. 

"He's just like that sometimes. I'll catch up with you later, I have a few things left to do here." A wave was offered to the Manderville Man as he eyed them both for a moment and nodded, turning to go. Priscilla waited until he had exited the guildhall before snagging the elezen by the arm and hauling him over between two racks of belts. "_What are you doing here wearing that face you sonofabitch._"

"Curiosity overcame me, Warrior. Please, forgive me." A demur tilt of his head down had him studying his feet, and he held it for a quiet count of three before shyly offering her Repentant Smile Number Seven. It held up well under her narrow-eyed glare before crumbling as he realized it wasn't having any sort of effect on her. Belatedly, he realized it might have more to do with the fact that he was wearing the image of the elezen that had been assigned to her by the Scions than the fact that he had followed her. A brief look of concentration dispelled the glamour, and he cleared his throat as he tapped the elongated claws that extended out from his gloves together. 

"Better. Though still not good. Hood down and mask off, and I'll consider it penance enough." Turning to start irritably poking through the belts to her right, she only glanced over when the soft rustle of fabric announced that he had done as she requested. A smooth gesture had the accents of his robes fading into obscurity, and he inclined his head towards her as she grumbled. "... Good. Now bugger off. I'm... I'm _busy_."

"Buying leather bracelets?" A fine brow was arched as Elidibus glanced towards where he had seen her as Godbert had carried him into the store. Returning his gaze to her face, the other brow lifted to meet the first at the way she was pinking slightly across the face once more. "Priscilla, I know that our relationship has been... rocky, during your current reincarnation's lifetime, however we once shared a fairly close bond of friendship. You look lost. Let me help you."

"I know. Devourer stole some of your memories and showed them to me, thinking that me remembering everything was good. And I mean, their heart's in the right place for it, but that's... the _wrong_ way to go about it." Clearing her throat, the Warrior turned to start ambling through the guildhall, studying the racks of goods and idly poking through them. "I just... I dunno? It's kind of personal?"

"Hmm. What did our mutual aggravation show you, I wonder..." Mildly Amused Smile Number Twelve made a brief appearance, before he steepled his fingers and settled beside her to appraise what was in the bin before them. She drew in a slow breath, before letting it out as she puffed her cheeks out.

"Lots of stuff I didn't exactly _want_ to know? Like what you do with your _you_ time the rare moments you take it is none've my business. Just like this really shouldn't be any of yours." 

His _him_ time? A quiet, conversational sound was hummed out of the Emissary as he thought about it for a moment. Ah. Understanding had him lifting his chin and blinking, and he cleared his throat politely as he felt heat rush to his face. Wishing he could hide it with his mask, instead he turned to stare blankly at some of the gloves on display. "I... See. The offer of advice that I made to you still stands, regardless of the time that has passed." 

"Yeah but... I'm not the only decision maker in this, right? So I can't just go and _air things out_, and as much as I might feel lost... You're not part've that circle." 

"I understand." A rare, honest smile was offered to the Warrior, and she blinked and furrowed her brows as she caught it before it morphed into Polite Smile Number Six. "However, I would also ask you to consider this. Many will search for answers before the practical application to avoid accidental harm, akin to how someone might read an instruction manual before assembling a chair. An informed choice is the best choice."

Priscilla squinted at him, before grimacing and looking back down at the bin she was leaning on. "... I hate that you're right."

"Please, feel free to remove any names and physical descriptions out of your questions. If anyone could answer them impartially, then certainly it would be me."

"Could you, though? I sat on your face." A rueful grin was aimed at him, and he chuckled softly. 

"A one time occurrence that will never be repeated, now that you have freed me. Part of His bait was you, after all. I think it must have been a common theme, and shudder to think of what Zodiark might have done had you ever actually, properly, succumbed to his tempering-"

"I know about Altima, Ophi." 

Polite Smile Number One snapped reflexively into place, and he slowly turned his gaze towards the contents of the bin in front of him. Scroll cases. Hmm. How delightful. To keep his hands busy, he reached in and picked one up to study it further. Weatherproofed. Wonderful. Perfect for carrying a chocobo license, the tag read. Remarkable work. "... It had to be done."

"For what it's worth? I agree. Not sure if Emet-Selch would tear you to pieces because it's a fragment of me or if he wouldn't care because, for all that it's a fragment of me it's not connected but I'm not going to risk it. Or, 'least, wasn't. I don't think it is, at any rate." She shifted to nudge his shoulder gently with her own. "The thing is, Devourer's ability works sort of like my echo in that it gives me how things feel from that person's perspective. In your own twisted, tempered way you were trying to protect her because she's part of me, just as you were trying to protect yourself and after, when you went back and Ended her, you were ashamed of what you had done, even more so than you were afraid of the Architect at that time."

"You still do not forgive me for it." He set the leather tube down, lifting his gaze to study the leather straps meant for holding keys. Durable. Never lose your keys again. Extraordinary in design with a myriad of different patterns. His smile remained firmly in place.

"It's not mine to forgive. Only one who could do that did at the end, I think. All that leaves is for you to forgive yourself. Now, I'm not saying that you _should_ any time soon, but. Well. You were always my friend. You let me break into and hide in your apartment and office when I couldn't quite shake Lahabrea." 

"Is that why you spared me?" Red eyes settled on her as he turned to watch her, voice as idly soft as ever, as if he couldn't hurt a fly. "Because you felt you owed me?"

Brows furrowing, the Warrior gave him an exasperated look as she gave him a light shove to stagger him to the side a step. 

"I thought _Emet-Selch_ was an idiot. I spared you because you were my _friend_."

Elidibus was silent for a moment, before he stepped back in beside her and nodded towards the leather bracelets she had been looking at before. 

"Gift, or personal use?"

"Gift."

"Esoteric tastes, or plain?"

She winced slightly, pinking across the face once more and looking away. "... Esoteric."

"A personalized order then. Nothing in any of these bins would be suitable. Sheepskin is softer, and I would recommend something... subtle, considering your concern with others realizing what it might signify. I will return to pick you up in a bell and a half."

He swept out of the guildhall, leaving her to mutter sullenly under her breath.


	24. Chapter 24

"I dunno. It was just... Too easy. It's got me on edge." The Warrior lounged back on the couch that the Architect was lounged back against, idly carding her fingers through his hair as he worked. Urianger looked thoughtful as he balanced his teacup on the legs in his lap, trusting Priscilla to remain still and keep from spilling it everywhere as he tilted his head slightly to the side. "What do you think?"

"Considering thus the ease of which thou didst manage to accomplish what ought to have been a monumental task with relative ease, we needs must view such through a wider perspective. Thy instincts hath always been particularly sharp, and as such I am inclined to trust such without complaint nor question beyond what may have triggered thy discomfort. 'Tis the Ninth shard 'pon which we lost Halmarut and Pashtarot, is it not?" The elezen glanced over, noting the way the Warrior was frowning and subtly matched it when he lifted a hand and pressed the side of a curled finger against his lips. His frown deepened as she nodded. 

"Yeah, that's right isn't it. Poison-land, where the Devourer's from. Emet-Selch picked it first because it would be easier to get in and out of in the event of an emergency." 

"A land meant to be teeming with voidsent, considering their campaign against yon inhabitants that now linger here 'pon the source. Did we determine the method with which they managed to cross the void?" The question was directed towards Emet-Selch as the astrologian gently nudged him with the side of his leg. 

"... We have _theories_. Nothing absolute, though I have a feeling it may well be as simple as a number of tempered, sundered Ascians went over and simply began summoning wave after wave. The question would be how did they manage to find the time to inundate the shard with the number they did if such was the case." The Architect didn't bother to look up, still largely focused on what he was working on though the way the Warrior scritched her nails lightly across his scalp drew a content sigh from him.

"I mean they stole the portal canon thing and an actual portal blueprint, right? And they had your tempered bit to translate. It's not impossible to think that they looked at some of the others and that your tempered bit memor...ized..." She blinked, before twisting carefully so that she could tap the Ascian on the shoulder and draw a mildly irritated glance from him. "Hey, hold on a moment, there's no part of you that can forget things if you've paid attention to them, right?" 

"I _am_ working on something, do recall. But you are correct."

"Sorry. Don't worry, won't take but a moment. Why did he need to break in and steal the blueprints? Why not write up his own set and hand them out if he can remember everything that you could?" The Warrior's words drew a slight shrug from Emet-Selch as he looked back at his work, idly turning the thin chain and dangling ornaments over in his hand to check them for imperfections.

"The easy answer is that it simply lacked the ability and memories. Perhaps it knew there _were_ blueprints, but not what they contained. Studying such from _my_ perspective, however, if it had been me I may well might have stolen them simply to be able to work on other projects as they did so. Drawing up blueprints takes a great deal of time, after all." Pale gold eyes narrowed as Emet-Selch paused. "... Well now, little Monster. I think I understand what, exactly, you seem to be implying."

"He probably built some portals, while they were acting as bait. Like actual, proper portals." Priscilla sat up as Urianger collected his tea, quiet and following the conversation with another frown.

"The problem however is that I know the limits of that fragment's strength. It never would have been able to materialize the required components." One gloved hand came up and waved idly before he resumed tracing minuscule runes along the edge of a waning moon. "Even bloated by the void energy used to supplement the aetheric mass of the Sundered, it would then read to anyone searching for aetheric signatures as a solid mass of void. Which I _would_ have been able to sense. Yet, I did not."

The Warrior rolled her eyes, shifting on the couch to fold her legs under her and peer down at what the Architect was doing. "Yeah but what if he hid it? Remember, he was a piece of you, which means he was uncommonly clever right? And he knew he'd be at cross odds with Unsundered. Which means he'd have tried to step twice as quick."

"Then why did it practically give up when it went to the Prima Vista, little Monster?" Giving up for the moment, Hades settled his work in his lap and leaned back to stare up at her, exasperated. "The moment you noticed it lurking, it fled to a _balcony_ and waited for you instead of fully retreating. It must have known of your capabilities by then. This means it was set to essentially let itself _die_." 

She grimaced, face scrunching up as she lifted a hand and raked it back through her hair. "Yeah, I wondered about that myself. Why do I get the feeling we've been basically played this whole time?" 

Emet-Selch was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful before he frowned. 

* * *

"Elidibus!"

The Emissary jerked awake, reflexively pulling the void around himself in a shield as he went from a deep sleep to abrupt wakefulness. Something hit the barrier, causing it to thrum softly, though the sound was lost to a wheezed out grunt. Pulling himself together, he recognized his surroundings and slowly dismissed his protection so that he could stare down at the groaning Warrior as she slowly sat up and rubbed at her face. 

"... Ow."

"Warrior of Light. This is my bedroom. Your presence here is entirely... Inappropriate."

"And yet unfortunately necessary. Emissary."

"Architect." The greeting came reflexively to his lips and he looked up to find Emet-Selch leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. Thankful that he slept with his mask on, (a habit from the pre-sundered days when Eschaton regularly broke into his apartment) a polite nod was offered as he raked a hand through his hair and combed it back. Several things went through his mind in that moment, everything from the likelihood that she had, in fact, told the other Paragon about Altima to an invitation to a three way that was firmly put out of his groggy mind. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"Emergency meeting. Get your boots on, we've got to meet Urianger and the Devourer." Pushing herself the rest of the way up, Priscilla brushed herself off and ambled towards the exit. "C'mon, hurry up."

A soft sigh answered her as the Emissary slowly shifted his legs to the side and left the comforts of his bed. A wave made the robes draped over the back of the nearby chair shimmer and vanish as they reappeared about his form, and a casual flick of his now taloned fingers popped the hood up to better obfuscate his features. It wasn't long before he made his way out into the hallway where both the Architect and the Warrior were waiting for him. 

"Sure took your time. Emet-Selch?" 

"So _demanding_, little Monster." He huffed, before a rift opened and swept over the three of them, depositing them on a ridge where Urianger was waiting with the lizard-like form of the fragment from the Ninth shard. "There."

"Uri, did you explain it to them? Also, Emissary can you put up like a bubble of black that people can't see through? I'ma get nekkid here in a hot second." 

"I did. Devourer?" Inclining his head, the elezen turned towards the lizard-like creature as they shifted and crooned. 

"Needs part of the shape, yesss? Yes. Hair."

"What is going on?" Elidibus lifted a hand and watched as the Warrior plucked a strand of hair free of their head and offered it out, frowning as they swallowed it and then rippled. The air about the group darkened, shielding them from prying eyes though the Emissary wasn't exactly certain as to who might be able to spy on them on the deserted chunk of floating rock that trailed in the wake of Azys Lla. Trapped in the illusion with them as he was, he politely turned to put his back to them and folded his hands in the sleeves of his robes.

"We have decided to indulge in some unorthodox methods to see what we might be able to glean." Emet-Selch grimaced as the Devourer's form stilled, a perfect replica of the Warrior, and started to help Priscilla shed her coat and clothes. Urianger unfolded the long black Ascian robes that had been draped over his arm, shaking them out and then offering them to her as she shimmied her pants down. Accepting them, she stepped aside and slipped them over her head as the Architect stooped and scooped up her shed clothes before stepping closer to her doppelganger and starting to help them get dressed. "As much as I am _loathe_ to agree to it, we need you to weave some of your essence into a shroud to make her appear as steeped in void essence as Altima is."

"Why specifically Altima?" Keeping his tone mild, Elidibus suppressed his mounting panic and obligingly turned and stepped forward with Polite Smile Number Two in place across his face. 

"Because Altima's missing, and we intend to take advantage of her absence. Plus, she's apparently a fragment of me too? So it'll be easier colour-wise, just in case. For all that Emet-Selch and Igeyorhm are the two masters at seeing people's colours, we don't know what the people we're against can really do. You won't mind if I chum around with you for a bit, will you?" The Warrior shot him a grin, and the Emissary inclined his head politely even as he curled his fingers through the air and began to work as requested. 

"No, not at all. By all means, if nothing else this should allow me to ensure your safety. However, I must inquire, if you are truly so concerned about the perceptive capabilities of our collective foe, how do you intend to make up for the discrepancy between the mass of your soul and that of the Devourer's? While I may lack the sensitivity to such things that others may have earned over the ages, even I can tell that there is a notable difference between the two of you." A twitch of his fingers here, a curl of one hand and wrist there, and he had settled a shroud of void about her soul. One quiet hum later and he was tweaking it to try and get it to mesh nicer as she shrugged and reached out to accept the red mask that the Architect was offering out. 

"Emet-Selch, mostly. Those two're going to be proverbially attached at the hip as they start searching the shards for portals. Urianger's going with them to help with that. Some sort of aetheric resonance something or other. Over my head, is what it is." Pressing the mask into place, the Warrior shifted back to lean against the elezen and slip a pair of black socks and heeled boots on. Shifting away to hop in place and get used to the way they felt, she reached out to accept the taloned gloves that the Architect turned to pass to her and then wiggled her fingers to make sure they fit. "Excellent work as always.Now, from what I understand, Altima didn't talk a whole lot right? Only when spoken to? Shy, demure, basically stepped on by everyone?"

"Correct. Do you think you can manage such?" Quirking a brow behind his mask, the Emissary tweaked his work for a moment more before glancing towards Emet-Selch as the other Paragon sized the Warrior up. "How does it look?'

"Rough, but it should stand up to passing scrutiny."

"Shouldn't be a problem. And if they come across the actual Altima, I'm sure they can subdue her and bring her to me so I can un-temper her. Everyone that's an Ascian knows you gave her a standing offer of protection, so it won't be too weird." She flashed them both a smile before reaching back and pulling the hood up. "The hardest part's gunna be walking in these boots. An inch is a bit _excessive_."

"Hardly a problem when you can _fly_. Now then, Elidibus. I am _trusting_ you with my wife." Pointing towards the Emsisary, the Architect scowled and hunched his shoulders before Urianger settled a hand on his shoulder. "... _Don't_ make me regret this."

"I have only the barest hints as to what exactly is going on, Emet-Selch. I will simply do my best to try and stay out of whatever trouble the Warrior manages to dredge up."

The Founding Father of Garlemald folded his arms, and huffed.

* * *

It took far too long for him to find Thancred, and he bitterly admitted that it was because he relied upon the senses that were inherent with the form he had been reborn into. Aetheric tracking had turned up little and less, but as the wind shifted, he had faintly picked up the scent of a specific kind of oil for gunblades and leather. Nose twitching, he had carefully picked his way through the rubble to find the white-haired midlander wheezing quietly as he huddled in an alcove formed by half-fallen timber. 

Keeping a distance, he watched as Thancred recovered and then vanished from both regular sight and aetheric while several things became clear all at once. The gunblade was effectlvely just about killing himself for brief periods of time to avoid aetheric detection. He could recover from it quickly, provided he had a moment to rest. _This was the reason the Warrior had called him the best of their sneaky bastards_. 

It was why she had been so worried, and why she had insisted on Lahabrea keeping him safe. 

He sniffed along, following the faint trail the hyur left and watching as he silently took down the few voidsent that crossed his path and lingered. He was picky with who he took down, and the Speaker presumed it might have had to do with how a trail of missing voidsent would have attracted attention. He seemed to strike only when absolutely necessary. It was almost surgical, he realized, and shook his head as they worked their way through to the heart of the encampment that was settled in the center of the ruined city. 

He made a mental note of everything they came across. Living people trapped in cages, some few being dragged out and drained of aether before their corpses were tossed to lesser voidsent and devoured, bones and all. The stench of blood and death in the air was almost overwhelming, but he was able to find an appropriate angle with which to suss out the gunblade's scent and resume his stealthy pursuit. When he noted that Thancred had abruptly halted and hunkered down to take cover, he slipped a little closer to try and discern what it was that he was staring at. 

Ascians. Sundered and tempered, they were bowed in supplication before a statue of Zodiark and seemed to be waiting for something. A moment passed, and then another before with a faint ripple of darkness a rift opened and dropped a rolled sheaf of parchment to the ground before them. Hesitating, the Speaker tried to get a feel for what might have been on the other side of the rift before realizing the other end was likely very close. Trusting the Hyur to remain safe for the time being, he eased his senses into the aetheric and picked up on the other end of it perhaps sixty paces away. A careful skuttle had him worming his way closer, and as he peered around a corner formed by some debris he was baffled by what he saw. 

It was a _bird_. Grey feathered, with a ridiculously long beak that clicked quietly as it cocked it's head to the side. What was worse, was that as he studied it it turned silver eyes towards him and _stared_. 

Tendrils of void aether burst out of the ground, catching him about the throat and forelimb before he snarled and hauled himself free, wings spreading to help him take to the air. The bird followed, aether gathering before lancing outwards in a series of rapid pulses that the Speaker had to drop back down to avoid. Behind him, he could hear a secondary conflict and the sharp retort of the hyur's firearm confirmed his suspicious before he abruptly wheeled and bound through the rubble. A quick dive to one side sent images of him scattering across the stones, throwing themselves into cover where they could and otherwise acting as a distraction as a series of purple crystalline daggers materialized and started to hammer through each image, exploding shortly after. 

Part of a nearby wall crumbled as Thancred was bodily hurled through it, and he hauled himself up with a confused look before Lahabrea bodily tackled him and hauled them both through a rift that had barely opened in time, disrupted by the bird's sudden focus on it. They came out in the cold, lightless void between Shards. 

Lahabrea vibrated the air with his frustration, even as he pulled a sphere of ice into existence around them and filled it with breathable air. 


	25. Chapter 25

Thancred stared at Lahabrea as he huddled and tried to limit his contact with the sphere of ice they were stuck within to just the thick soles of his boots. Considering the way he could see his breath, he was less than pleased at the circumstances and had settled on constantly glaring as he shivered. As the dragonet idly curled into a ball, he finally broke the silence between them and swung his firearm to lightly thwap the Speaker to get his attention. 

"Why haven't you gotten us back yet."

_[If only it were so easy.] _Silver-gold eyes cracked open to stare at the hyur before the dragonet hissed._ [To be able to go somewhere, I must know where I am. It's not as simple as traveling down a **tube**, where an attack has poked a hole in it and you end up somewhere between point a and point b. The void is a warped mass of time and space. Unless something has stabilized it, such as the sea of light that your Hydaelyn drifts within, it's naught more than a mad, scrambled mess.]_

"So we're stuck, is what you're saying. Fat lot of good you turned out to be-"

_[I never once said I **could not** do this thing. It just will take a little bit longer. Perhaps a bell at most, provided that bird isn't sitting out there waiting for us.]_

"Bird? I heard the fight and used the distraction to snatch the missive given to the Ascians." 

_[Correct. I don't know how it saw me, with luck it won't be able to find us while I chart our course. It was an Ascian, clearly, but I saw no glyph and the only spells they used were fairly common. Blasts of aether, exploding shards of crystal and tendrils of void.]_ Lahabrea rotated in mid-air, double-checking the obscurement about the shell of ice and grimacing. If nothing else it seemed to be holding. He hoped that their foe hadn't followed them through. He might be able to forego the need to breath, but Thancred... 

Thancred would quite likely die within the first few heartbeats. Eschaton would hold him responsible. His already barely tolerable situation would get worse, because he would lose what little traction he had gained with the Scions and, by extention, the factions they interacted with. Vidofnir would_ sit_ on him again. 

The Ascian shuddered. 

He may not have been the sorcerer Elidibus or Emet-Selch could claim to be, but he was very good at finding ways to swim when everyone else started to drown.

_[Give me fifteen minutes of uninterrupted concentration. The moment you notice any cracks in the sphere, disturb me. Otherwise, I am going to take us **home**.]_

* * *

There were many things the Warrior expected to happen as she padded around after Elidibus. They very visibly visited a number of places, and eventually agreed that the Emissary himself was not being tracked or followed by any shoebills. It allowed her to subtly catch up on some things she had been hoping to get around to, despite the disguise, and Elidibus felt reasonably certain that he had dismantled most, if not all of the plots he had set into motion that Tataru had been unable to tear apart herself.

This left them both pondering what, exactly, the shoebill had meant. A warning? She went over every sighting of the creature she could think of, mostly from Kholusia, and they both agreed that it seemed more likely to have something to do with Emet-Selch than herself. But if that was so, why did she keep finding it places?

The Emissary didn't have an answer. But he did have a _plan_, and they both agreed it would have to do despite the risks. The crellbron had managed to rig up a rudimentary barrier in and of itself, though it would need to be actively deployed lest it drain the ambient aether, which gave them a little bit of leeway. One phylactery stuffed into the Warrior's pocket later and they had a way to know when the Source was under attack, with one arm wrapped around Priscilla's waist the white-robed Ascian stepped them both through the void. 

She was surprised by, in that brief moment _in between_, the way everything went cold and she could more feel than hear the thoughtful hum that rippled out of Elidibus. When he walked them both out in the middle of a lightless expanse, she tensed and realized they were rather literally in the middle of nowhere. She couldn't see anything, and belatedly remembered that the mask that she had reluctantly handed over to the Devourer was the one that gave her aethric sight. 

Still, the Warrior could feel the way vibrations tickled outwards from the Emissary, and after a moment he tensed beside her and a sudden lurch of movement took the two of them. Light and sound burst into being around them as they rather more fell than stepped through a rift and began to immediately plummet through a clouded umbral sky. She had all of a breath to take stock of what was going on, and she spent it looking towards where they had come out of. 

A sphere of ice had pulled itself into being and cracked open like an egg. She was somewhat surprised to find Thancred and Lahabrea tumbling through the air before Elidibus had securely shifted his arm to settle it around her waist and hauled them both through another rift. They came out, touching gracefully down in what she recognized as the Thirteenth shard before a rift snapped open above them. The Emissary snagged her hand with his own and waltzed them both out of the way of where a dragonet hit the ground with a squeak and then a second as the white-haired hyur landed on him. 

"What attacked you?'

_[An unknown Ascian wearing the shape of a bird. Would you get **off** of me?]_

"Seven hells. How did you find us?"

"I am more sensitive to the void than most others, Mister Waters." Elidibus offered a polite bow the hyur as he pushed himself up and to the side, and Priscilla belatedly remembered that she was pretending to be Altima. She mimicked thepolite gesture as she remained silent. "When I noticed the upheaval, we investigated and found your defenses besieged by a powerful force. I only hope that my distraction of this thing allowed you both to follow unscathed. Speaker?"

_[Tired, but whole. After a bell and a half of trying to replenish my defenses as I searched for a way out, I could use a rest.]_

"I thought you Paragons were supposed to be powerful. You said you would get us out of there in fifteen minutes."

_[I also told you to disturb me once the shell began to crack. Fifteen **uninterrupted** minutes.]_ Flaring his wings, the dragonet bared his teeth at Thancred and then fluttered up to perch on the white-robed Ascian's shoulder. Lahabrea turned slightly to peer at the disguised Warrior, nostrils flaring before he growled. _[Late. Lazy, good for nothing Altima, you took your time crawling out of the woodwork. What have you to say for yourself?]_

Priscilla weighed her options before simply turning and bowing silently once more. Elidibus came to her rescue and shook his head. 

"She has been in my care, Speaker, working on a handful of simple tasks. But I digress, the air weighs heavily. I think whatever it is that you angered is determined to finish the job they started."

"Then why don't you just teleport us away?" Thancred reloaded his firearm, grimacing and peering around as he stepped closer. Both Ascians shared a glance, before Lahabrea cleared his throat. 

_[We can't. What do you think we've been trying to do while we talk? Whoever that is, they have more strength than the Emissary.]_

"And you can't help him with it?"

_[I **am** helping him with it. I'm not that type of sorcerer.]_

The Warrior shifted a boot to nudge Elidibus's shin subtly to get his attention. Once he had looked over, she partially bowed and lifted one claw-laden finger, and he hummed thoughtfully before nodding. 

"Mister Waters, Lahabrea, Altima and I will handle the teleportation but we needs must depend on both of you for protection."

"And how long will you need? Let me guess, fifteen minutes." Thancred grimaced, tucking the gunblade against his shoulder as he peered out towards the gathering clouds.

"Hmm." The white-robed Ascian looked thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head. "Three should about do it." 

_[Get started then, Emissary. Take us safely home.]_

* * *

Priscilla, for all that she couldn't see to aim properly, knew that for something like this she probably didn't have to. Elidibus had seemingly picked up her meaning of sundering through whatever grip it was that had them locked there, which meant all he had to do was point and try to open a rift. It would fail, she would sunder through the grasp and he would then carry them all away. They expected it to be voidsent that swamped them, but instead they were faced with a white-masked Amaurotine that stepped out of their own rift and studied the four of them. 

They didn't say anything, simply stared down at the group as the dragonet shimmered and pulled an ice-vessel into existence. Lahabrea climbed into the ribcage of his construct and covered it with an illusion of his hyur form. One hand was held to the side before it curled around the trident that manifested, and the Speaker set himself defensively. Thancred grimaced as he stepped up beside him, cautiously watching their foe. 

For a long moment, nobody moved. The disguised Warrior kept close to where the Emissary stood with his head bowed, lips twitching with partially mouthed, silent syllables and consonants, and cupped her hand over her forearm to cover the crystal that lingered there. And then...

Everyone moved. 

Lahabrea hefted the trident, launching it like a spear that was turned aside and gave Thancred the opportunity to bolt forward and hack at the robed figure. The blow barely ruffled the skirts it connected against, and he sucked in a breath before throwing himself to the side to avoid the faint, hazy ripple in the air. He hauled himself up, wide-eyed, and braced himself defensively. 

"Something's off with this one! Don't get too close!"

"I refuse to lay down and let him kill me." The Speaker planted the tines of the trident into the ground, focusing and sending rippled of frost across the ground that halted a few fulms away from the figure and encircled him. It thickened at the border, growing upwards as it contended with an almost lazily produced barrier and rapidly shrouding the Amaurotine from sight before bursting outwards in broken shards. Their foe seemingly bored, he strode forward and snapped his fingers, sending waves of void-tainted aether outwards in bursts that knocked Thancred further back and crackled against the thick wall of ice that had sprung up to shield Lahabrea. 

Elidibus ahh'd softly, and stepped to the side as a rift bloomed into existence in front of him. It almost immediately closed again, and the disguised Warrior turned to cut it open before hesitating at the surge of cold along her forearm. Stepping back, she perked up as Emet-Selch forced it the rest of the way open and stepped through with both the doppelganger and Urianger in tow. 

"Architect. We intended to retreat."

"Emissary. I would _much_ rather take care of this right now. There is little we three Paragons cannot take, when working together. Altima, take Urianger, Thancred and the Warrior and keep an eye out for voidsent. We will handle this." Stalking past Elidibus, Emet-Selch drew himself up and snapped his fingers, pulling his staff and crown out of thin air as he went. The white-robed Ascian sighed slightly, but nodded and turned towards the Amaurotine citizen and crouched, sketching a quick rune against the ground. A glance was all it took for the disguised Warrior to reach out and snag her doppelganger and the elezen by the arm and start pulling them away. 

"Thancred!" Free hand pulling his star globe from his back, Urianger set it to hover as he kept pace and called out to the gunblade. The four of them managed to get clear of the worst of the fighting as Lahabrea gestured to the sky and began to rain shards of ice down across the battlefield, leaving them to find cover a short distance away where they could keep an eye out for voidsent. 

"Do I want to know why you're dressed like an Ascian?" The gunblade eyed Priscilla, who winced slightly and held her hands up. 

"It's complicated? We were trying to bait out the big guy - well, I'm hoping that's who their ringleader is - so that Emet-Selch could look at them and figure out who they are by the colour of their soul. How'd you find them?" She wiggled her nose under the red mask, and blinked as he fished a scroll out of a pouch and held it out. "What's this?"

"The Squeaker and I found some sundered, tempered Ascians waiting for orders. I think Lahebread found your target, because they started fighting and gave me the chance to snatch this. It doesn't bode well-" The gunblade glanced up as Urianger held his star globe higher, drifting up slightly and manifesting a barrier about the four of them. Shards of rock thumped across it, before he settled back down and looked towards them. 

"Methinks we needs must find a more secure location at a greater distance."

"Good idea. C'mon." Reaching to snag the idly watching Devourer by the arm, she turned and started to head further out across the expanse of void-stained rock with Thancred and the elezen hot on their trail. 

* * *

Emet-Selch was many things. Gifted with incredible sight and aetheric capabilities, an Unsundered Paragon, and _motivated_. He was also _troubled_ by how the three of them working together barely seemed to have an edge against their foe. When two of them put their efforts together to attack, he countered. When it was all three of them, he defended, and inevitably worked to put Lahabrea in the path of the spells that were cast in tandem by himself and the Emissary. Elidibus, for all that he was empowered by the natural void essence in the area, seemed to be the least effective against the Amaurotine figure, with the Architect (Him! His magic!) just barely doing more than scratching the surface. Lahabrea's attacks seemed to hit the hardest, and as such the two sorcerers worked to give him as many opportunities as they could to strike. 

At the rate they were going, it would take them all year to whittle him down. And it _was_ a him. That much, Emet-Selch could tell. The colour of the soul itself was obfuscated, which frustrated him. It was as though they were incredibly adept at hiding themself, which meant that the Warrior's concerns about hidden portals scattered about the Shards was well founded. This level of ability, when combined with his ability to manufacture, in the amount of time they had known of the tempered fragment's activities...

"Architect, focus!" Elidibus bodily hauled the Garlean vessel aside, keeping him clear of a blast of aether that vaporized a furrow along the ground. He huffed, and raised both hands, snapping the fingers of one and directing his counterspell with the other and grimacing as it seemed to scatter harmlessly across the ripple of a barrier. Weighing his options, he grimaced and raised one hand, pulling his banner into being-

The Amaurotine figure pointed at him and snapped his fingers, dismissing the banner. 

Hades was at a loss. It simply should _not_ have been possible for someone else to dismiss one of his artifacts. He stared for a moment before narrowing his eyes, and the Emissary grunted and stepped away as his form shifted and grew. Flexing his claw-tipped appendages, he snagged the staff in one massive hand and held the other flat against it, focusing his aether into a singular point and then letting it lance outwards. Or he would have, save that as the figure sidestepped a swipe of the Speaker's trident he turned back to the Architect and snapped his fingers, dismissing the staff. The spell he had been building cracked, sputtered and threatened to explode in his grasp as he raised all four arms to contain it.

Void aether wove about his own, and Elidibus shaped the proverbial barrel of a canon for him as aether compacted and was then released through the offered outlet. It hit their foe's raised barrier before denting it inwards, burrowing a hole through it and then through the torso, leaving an ilm-wide smoldering hole in it's wake. Progress, Emet-Selch thought to himself, especially when the Amaurotine form they faced dropped a hand down to it to cover it and then looked back up towards them. The other hand came out, snapping his fingers to produce the Architect's staff before spinning and swinging it, bringing the larger crystalline edge where Zodiark's effigy used to linger against the defensively braced Speaker and sending him sailing clear over the edge of the cracking, crumbling rock they had fought on. 

Emet-Selch simply hoped that the dragonet had the constitutional fortitude to endure against the reinforced _intent_ that had lingered in the weapon, and held out one hand to snap his fingers and send the conjured item into his aether once more. The staff vanished, safely secured before their foe stepped back through a rift. For a moment, he was relieved that he had retreated until he realized another rift had opened up near Priscilla.

**<No no NO->**

* * *

The Warrior stiffened as she heard the way a rift hummed open, turning to face it and opening her mouth to shout as a hand the size of her torso wrapped around her doppelganger. It pulled the Devourer into the rift it had emerged from, closing shortly after to leave her staggering forward and reaching out to thin air and then slowly turning to look towards where Hades had drifted to a stop nearby. Outstretched hand lowering, he turned to look behind him and mark Elidibus' progress and then turned back to the group. 

**<He took the Devourer?>**

"He did. We've... We've got to get them back. Can you follow him?" She stepped closer, hands curling into fists. She had been _right there_. It had taken all of a half-breath for the rift to open and close. She should have been-

**<I would have to know where they went. Elidibus, however...>**

The Warrior grit her teeth, before letting out a slow breath as the Emissary touched down with the unmoving dragonet draped over one arm. He looked up towards the aetheric form of the Architect, and gestured to the Speaker. 

"Emet-Selch. What is wrong with him?"

**<He was struck by my staff. While still alive, it seems as though it was very nearly more than Lahabrea could endure. A type of 'death'. Give him here, and I will figure out what the 'intent' was, and lift it. While I do so, see what you can do to follow the rift he left through. He stole our little Monster's doppelganger.>**

The Emissary dipped into a partial bow before tucking the dragonet into the Architect's grasp, and vanishing through a rift of his own.


	26. Chapter 26

The Devourer had the potential to absorb traits from anything they sampled, instinctively copying the genetic structure and adding them haphazardly to their own. Due to this, physically, they could be said to have all genders, all shapes, and all sizes. This was their inherited Secret, that of Shapesnatching. But there was more to it than simply taking the _form_ of something. 

They had inherited more than just Shapesnatch, because some Secrets came _bundled_. 

The original purpose to the Living Memory was to pull meaning and memories from beasts, before inserting their own by way of physical touch. There was no way to destroy a mind by doing so - it didn't steal the memories and remove them from the target, after all - but it could horribly confuse one if properly utilized. For example, the Devourer could, on contact, pump ever single horrific memory of being eaten that they could think of into their foe as fast as they could remember them. The drawback was that this was difficult to manage in combat, because they had to remain utterly still and focus on it. This tended to get the Devourer hit, in combat, and getting hit broke concentration. 

A terribly useless ability in anything but a safe setting. 

They were definitely not in a safe setting, but trapped in a massive aethric fist as they were, they had time to prepare. They knew they weren't in contact with the physical body, however, considering the weren't getting any memories from it. Oh, but the Devourer was _old_ for it's kind, having constantly shifted their organs into younger versions to ensure longevity similar to how they would shape their skin whole when damaged. It took a great deal of caloric energy, but it was doable. 

They hadn't survived as long as they had without learning a few tricks. Snakes liked to coil about and smother their prey, just as much as some of the larger beasts loved to swallow things whole. There were a great many burrowing forms that were appropriate for just such an occasion. 

Golden fur sprouted across their form as they grew smaller, but for all that they did they gained a density that belied their perhaps three fulm long frame. The hand closed more securely about them before they oriented themselves, determined the wrist _must_ be that way, and put all eight thickly clawed limbs to work. The construct that had a hold of them flinched, fingers loosening as he shook his hand to try and eject the badger-like creature and failed as they simply burrowed the rest of the way through the palm and started to work through the wrist and arm. 

It vanished, leaving behind a small bird that spread his wings and watched as the gorger-shaped fragment plummeted the twelve or so fulms to the ground, bounced, and grew _wings_. 

* * *

Elidibus was very, _very_ good at being sneaky. As the rifts were void-based, out of all of the Ascians it was publicly a toss up between himself and Mitron when one asked who could follow a closed portal better. The Traveler, the Emissary would verbally admit, had an edge on him because to go from one place to another was well within the youngster's domain. 

He would be lying. 

Certainly, Mitron likely had his own methods to follow a trail of aether, but he was not a _hunter_ per say. That distinguishing trait had largely been one of Eschaton's, for all that she kept it out of polite conversation. That meant it should have been Altima who would have had an edge, if they were still alive. They were not, but even if they had been he would have still had the edge over everyone else.

Before the title of the Emissary had been bestowed upon him, he had been Ophiuchus of the Forked Tongue. His formative years had not been in Amaurot, but instead in one of the smaller towns far and away from any proper civilization. Rife with jealousy, greed and strife, he had grown up systematically devouring the territories of street rats until he owned every shaded nook and cranny that people averted their eyes from. He had developed his own method of transportation across long distances so that he could expand his territory. It was more of a teleportation, really, and it was the basis of the rifts that the Ascians utilized. It had been born from practice stepping into one shadow and stepping out of another. 

It was his baby. He knew exactly what it was capable of, knew exactly the trails and traces it left behind. His confidence that it would have only taken three minutes to amass the strength he needed to break through anything preventing him from rifting away had been grounded in knowing how to abuse it and twist it so that it _would_ work regardless of any grip on the area preventing such. The 'Forked Tongue' part of his moniker had been born when he realized he was one of those few gifted prodigies who could manifest a second form, and had felt that of a winged snake such as he was had been _fitting _the first time he had done so and studied himself in a mirror. Something that could, when wounded, shed it's own skin and flee to safety. Something that could bite once and kill a foe three days later. An _ambusher_. 

He knew his strengths. He subtly followed the trail that the Amaurotine-looking foe that had inadvertently left, and let his form expand. He would have one shot, when it came to his action of choice before he would have to retreat, and knew he would need every onze of strength at his disposal for it. The question that he asked himself was what, exactly, should he _do_ with that action. If he could, he would have liked to have crippled their foe, but was unwilling to do so at the cost of the fragment of the Fourteenth. 

His choice was made for him. By the time he had nosed out of the shadows, he watched as the winged badger-like creature that the Devourer had morphed into was dashed against the ground, trying to suck in air through lungs that had could visibly be seen atrophying through the part of their torso where a large chunk was missing. The edges of the wound rippled, trying to close and failing, and as much as he hated to let the opportunity to poison their foe go by, he knew what the Warrior would have done. 

What _Persephone_ would have done. 

He struck, maw snapping open and shut around the tiny, weighty form of the fragment before he dove back through the patch of shadow he had surfaced from.

* * *

Lahabrea sucked in a breath, sitting up and almost immediately collapsing back down as his vision swam. Lifting his head far slower the second time around, he took stock of the situation and his location, relaxing back into Emet-Selch's hold as he realized they were back in Azys Lla. A curious, if woozy glance around drew his attention to the rift that opened and had everyone immediately on edge until the Emissary stepped out, cradling a golden-furred creature with bloodstained feathered wings. It wheezed, and he thought that by comparison, he was doing marvelously indeed. 

Altima rushed forward, reaching to take the dying creature into her arms and moved a few feet away, settling down to run her fingers through its fur and look towards the Architect. Hesitating, Emet-Selch partially lifted a hand and then lowered it, shaking his head. 

"This... Is beyond what I can undo fast enough to save them, little Monster."

The Speaker squinted, before looking between the Ascian and the Botanist's replacement. 

_[... Are you fucking Altima too, now?]_

"Elidibus, _please_ take Lahabrea before I wring his neck." Pale gold eyes rolled as the dragonet was unceremoniously dumped into the Emissary's grasp. Arms free, the Architect settled into a crouch beside where Altima had gone utterly still, shoulders tense beneath the robes. She distractedly tilted her head towards him, pale under the mask that Emet-Selch removed, wide-eyed and lacking the pure silver hair of the Ascian the Warrior had been impersonating. "... What is it."

"I can't-" She shuddered, blinking rapidly as her eyes remained unfocused. The Devourer in her lap let their features split into a silly little grin before they slowly went limp, curled and looking peaceful as if they were simply resting. The Warrior sucked in a breath, before clearing her throat. "I-I need... I need _air_."

The Architect frowned, but nodded and wrapped an arm around her. The other hand was offered out towards Urianger, who stepped forward and took it before all three of them vanished into another rift. 

_[What was all that about? Elidibus?]_

"Altima has been dead for some time now. Eschaton disguised herself as such so that Emet-Selch could suss out where our foe was, using the Devourer as bait. Thus is the extent of my knowledge of their plan. The results... Well, you were present for them. I will take watch, and I recommend that you retire to your rooms." Smiling faintly, the Emissary moved to gently set the Speaker down before turning and stepping through a rift of his own, leaving the dragonet staring at Thancred. 

They each sneered and scowled at the other, before one went over the railing to spread his wings and glide away as the other turned and stalked down the hallway the balcony was attached to.

* * *

"It's _you_."

Priscilla's voice was quiet, almost lost to the wind as the three of them sat atop one of the flat pieces of Azys Lla. She sat between the Ascian and the elezen, staring down at the dead Devourer in her lap, and each of her boys had an arm around her to help keep her proverbially grounded. At her words, both of them shared a confused look before the astrologian cleared his throat. 

"Prithee, paramour, what is thy meaning?"

"It's _him_. Except it's _not_. I was wrong. The Ascians didn't follow the Crystal tower because it was impossible, but because one of them _did_. He stole the Devourer because he thought they were _me_. The shoebill, in Kholusia. They _stole_ his memories. The reason Thancred said the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, the reason he felt like being close to the Amaurotine figure was because he's familiar with _being that close to death_. He stole your staff and banner _because they're his too_. He planned to kill all three of you, except that he underestimated your effectiveness against him. The tempered fragment was to test how I pulled the tempering out of people. Our success on the Ninth was to test how _you_ pulled the souls out of Zodiark." The Warrior shook minutely, hands closing in the luxurious fur of the creature in her lap. "He only retreated because he didn't want to risk you putting a hole in the form and actually hitting him with it. He stole the Devourer because he didn't want to leave empty handed. A token for his troubles. Just like you did with G'raha."

"Little Monster..."

"No, I know he's not _you_, but... I saw it. If the Exarch hadn't pulled me through, Zodiark would have won. I _saw_ it. I saw the way pieces split off to form limbs and a halo, how he drifted over the world and demanded tithe. I saw-" She swallowed, hair on the back of her neck standing on end as she shuddered. "... I saw a world of puppets, I felt your disinterest and how you hated the fact that they were all just... So hollow, for all that they were _whole_. Amaurot rebuilt. Mankind once more as it once was. You found it _empty_ without me, but I'd been killed. Beyond killed. Every scrap of me that could be found had been fed to the primal you obeyed.The same drive that pushed Cid and Nero and them to develop what was needed to send G'raha into the past, you had it too. You _have_ it too-"

The Ascian sighed and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her partly into his lap as he started to rock from side to side. "Breath, little Monster. Slowly."

"I can't- I- I _don't want to kill you_, even if you're you and he's _him_. I can't.. I'll _hesitate_-"

"Fortunately thou needs not do this thing. We cannot let him return to whence he came, 'lest he redouble back with reinforcements." Urianger carefully took one of her hands between his own, running his thumbs along her knuckles and shaking his head. "For this, you have us." 

"Precisely. Now that we know more about who it is organizing the remaining tempered Ascians and the voidsent, we have a remarkably better chance to foil them." Resting his chin on her shoulder, Hades nuzzled against her neck and sighed. "It _does_ explain quite a few things, however. Why he appeared as a shoebill, for example. How he managed to hide from us. I am particularly adept at hiding my soul, after all. It also covers why it was so easy to transport the souls from Zodiark to Hydaleyn. We were allowed to do so, unmolested, because it would be simple enough to pluck them from the Lifestream once more and return them to Him. Time consuming, but provided he managed to imprison you and kill any one of us three Paragons... Well, there would be precious few people left to stand against him, at that point. He could have his victory, impress upon the primal that it was due to his machinations and none other's, and thus secure you as a tempered prize."

"But he's-"

"More powerful than me? Perhaps. That has yet to stop _you_, little Monster. I know how he thinks. For all that he seems to have a greater capacity for aether than I do, I _am_ the Architect. If I see no solution, I will _build_ one."


	27. Ophiuchus of the Forked Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elidibus losing it  
Pre-sundering.  
For Aunty

Elidibus really should have been surprised to find out who, exactly, it was that was holding up the negotiations with the independent city-state of Clemara. As things stood, he spent an extra afternoon into the evening smoothing things over with the delegates to reassure them that yes, Amaurot would lend all the aid they could to continue building the roads and towers to pave a path between their homes. No, he didn't know who might have attacked their construction site, but when he found out there _would_ be a reckoning. Yes, he saw the white bird with blue bands. No, he had never seen it before. 

He was lying. He knew that bird. He knew who it belonged to. 

What he didn't know, was _why_. Why was the Eschaton there? Why was she interfering with the progression of society? She seemed to have no trouble working along side the Architect, so why was it that when he tried his hand at a way to connect one of their far flung neighbours that she interfered? The Emissary kept Polite Smile Number One in place as he promised to personally watch over the site overnight, and remained bowed at the proper angle until the delegation from Clemara had passed out of sight, leaving him alone in the moon-lit darkness and surrounded by still construction equipment. 

The white bird fluttered down to land on a stack of lumber, and cocked its head before fluffing blue-banded wings. 

"Take me to her."

It chirped, before fluttering over and landing on his shoulder. Beak pointing upwards on an angle, he followed it's line of sight and disappeared as his shadow curled up to consume them both. He stepped out onto a treebranch, and sighed at the silhouette of the Botanist as she idly lifted a hand and waved. 

"Eschaton."

"Elidibus."

"Why are you here."

"A similar reason to yourself, if I had to hazard a guess." The hand that waved gestured to the site they overlooked. "I can't let them build a tower here."

"You rather lack the authority to dictate such, as it was agreed upon by a majority vote. I will indulge you, however. Why?"

"A majority vote I was absent for. Do you have any idea how old these trees are? If you cut into one to count the rings, you would find them so densely packed to be almost a single, solid colour. These trees are the oldest in the area, and have their roots sunk deep into the aether of the land. They're shepherds, maestros that sing and direct the younger generations. They've been here for _three_ generations of Eschatons, and letting them get cut down is akin to letting someone murder a family member."

"This area is rich in aether, Botanist. It will boost the tower's signal tremendously-"

"It's rich in aether because of the trees you want to cut down. Without them, without this grove you lose that quality. Didn't Halmarut tell you that?"

Elidibus was quiet for a moment, before sighing. "He did, however the loss still leaves this land as prime if only for the location." 

"Good _grief_." Eschaton slowly shook her head, before pushing herself to her feet. "I can't let these trees come to harm. Ophi, listen to reason-"

"I am _Elidibus._ The Emissary, and you are getting in the way of my diplomatic mission." His tone was chiding, and caused the Botanist to straighten abruptly and then shake her head once more. "It was agreed upon by nine members of the Convocation, our peers. Are you implying that all nine of us are somehow wrong?"

"Yes."

He opened his mouth to reply, only to frown as she turned and ran.

* * *

Eschaton bound through the trees, pausing only long enough to shuck her boots so that her feet had room to shift and subtly warp the same as her legs did. Claws gripped the moss and bark and gave her the purchase and traction she needed on otherwise slick branches, and by the time she had landed in the middle of the construction site the forest around her had come to life. Flying creatures and insects swarmed, flocking together to pick at ties and worry at everything and anything they could. Crawling, running beasts stole anything small enough for them to carry, otherwise working in tandem to remove the larger items. Roots burrowed, wormed beneath construction equipment before heaving upwards to tip them slowly onto their sides.

She narrowed her eyes as a white-robed figure stepped out of a patch of darkness. He lifted his head to look at her before dipping into a polite bow, and when he straightened his polite smile had been replaced by one that was almost apologetic. Crouching, coiling her legs beneath her, she gathered herself and then kicked off to rush forward only for him to sweep out a hand, leaving a trail of darkness hanging in the air in it's wake. It hit her with the force of a small truck, and she grunted as she landed, heavily, and slowly sat up. 

A gesture swept the hanging clouds of darkness out towards the animals in a nova. It reacted almost viciously on contact, knocking them away with a series of successive concussive blasts, and soon enough they had all scattered to the treeline as the Botanist pushed herself to her feet. She brushed herself off, before padding slowly closer. 

"You're serious about this."

"I am." The Emissary dipped into a polite, apologetic bow before straitening. "I do not want to fight you, Eschaton. I gave them my word that I would guard this site until morning."

"I'm sorry for this then." She eased into her own partial bow before crossing the distance with a burst of speed. When he pulled a shielding wall of darkness between them, she sunk her claws into it and tore it asunder, pulling herself through the gap and raking across the space he had been only to growl quietly as he faded back into another one. Of course. Two dimensional patches of darkness, at night. He could move freely between them. 

"Eschaton, be reasonab-" Elidibus grunted as the patch of shadow he had stepped out of found itself bisected by a tree branch that came lashing across, catching him across the back. It staggered him, and by the time he had looked up the Botanist was out of sight. Frowning, he stepped further from the treeline and made his way out into the center of the construction site, and glanced down to note how the ground seemed to have become spongy. Another quick scan of the area had his eyes widening as bioluminescent spores started to drift up from the thick carpet of moss that had spread across the ground. One hand was lifted to wave some of them away from his face, and he could taste the earthy tone everything had taken. 

Movement, behind him. He could feel it through the ground, despite how the moss muffled his tremmorsense. Spinning, he raised a hand and curled it to put a barrier between them only to hesitate as he noted that she was simply standing there, smiling sadly. 

"Don't worry, Ophi. I'm not going to hurt you. Not really. I _am_ sorry though. I hope the bruises across your back heal quickly." 

"Eschaton-" The world tilted, and he grunted as she caught him. "... What... did you do to me."

"When you wake up, I just hope you can forgive me." Her smile seemed sad, and he tried to claw his way out of the looming darkness that edged his vision. She was still speaking, saying something about moving, but it was lost to the lethargy that weighed him down. The last thing he saw, was a pair of yellow eyes set in a black furred face, and the soft feeling of fur shifting beneath his chin.

* * *

A week later, and Elidibus carefully made his way to the Convocation meeting. On entering, he realized right away that there was something _wrong, _and a glance towards Emet-Selch confirmed it. The Architect was actually awake _and_ aware, otherwise inscrutable underneath his mask as Eschaton slowly turned to face the Emissary.

"Wonderful. You made it. Let us start with our first order of business then." One hand was deftly tucked behind her back as the other was tucked against her waist, and she waited for him to make his way to his spot before inclining her head. "One week ago. construction on a signal tower meant to assist with the guidance of flight-related transportation was disrupted. Many of you have heard of this, and I am here before you to tell you that it is true. I know this for a fact, because I was the one that disrupted it. There are wild places of the world that are not the domain of men, and I am _ashamed_ of all of you, that you would dare to defile one without consulting me first."

"Before I arrived at the location, several ancient trees were heavily damaged and destroyed. Killed. This could have been avoided. Your actions, your agreement has thrown that entire region into turmoil. Due to your actions you have cost generations of history to be _lost_. Ten thousand years of cultivation, wasted all because you could not wait a few short years for me to return to discuss this. My Agricorps have secured the area, and we have begun the process of moving these ancient beings to a safe location. A process that should have begun before the wanton destruction of the natural habitat came to pass. Nine of you voted to do this thing, three of you abstained, and one of you put forth the idea and thus, being biased, could not vote."

The Botanist took a slow breath, before shaking her head. "Too much damage has been done already. You can _have_ that land. The faction that I have come to speak on behalf of would much rather cede it to you than face more conflict, however it will take months before everything has been cleared out for your use. As such, I propose that if you _must_ build your signal tower there, delay the construction for a year and a day. I invite you to think on this for a few minutes, before we take a vote."

"A year and a day will cause delay in the supply lines we hope to run through the area." Mitron frowned, hunching his shoulders before shaking his head. "Are you sure about the amount of time needed? You said it would take months, and the festival we need the supplies for will be over before the current year is through."

"Absolutely certain, down to the hour." Eschaton smiled sheepishly, harsh tone softening somewhat. "Sorry. I know how hard you and Lohgrif have worked on it. To compromise and compensate for this, I'll send some of my staff to personally escort and transport the supplies. That should cut down the travel time required, because they can navigate by the natural landmarks almost as well as your own."

"I don't see why we cannot simply build the tower." Pashtarot frowned, folding his arms as he looked thoughtful. 

"The trees will interfere with the signal, suffused with ambient aether as they are. As such, they need to be cleared out of the area." Igeyorhm shrugged slightly, shaking her head. "So long as the signal tower is able to be built, I have no specific preference for the timeline beyond the sooner the better."

"Eschaton speaks true. Those trees have been there for millennia." Halmarut straightened, and cleared his throat. "I for one would be glad to delay the construction of the tower so that they might be safely moved elsewhere. I presume you will handle most of this personally?"

The Botanist nodded, and tucked a hand against her chest. "Correct. My ability to grant plants the ability to move is essential to this endeavor. The reason it will take so long is because I have to move each tree individually, and walk it to a safe distance before reburying the roots."

"Then I see no reason why we should rush." Nabriales smiled slightly, and inclined his head in a polite nod. "I move that we vote on this now."

"Very well. Let the vote for a year and a day delay on the signal tower project will now commence." Eschaton returned the polite nod with one of her own, and lifted one hand. "All to abstain."

Emet-Selch lifted his hand, before moving to sit down. 

"Two to abstain, one due to personal bias." She smiled slightly, before continuing. "All against."

Elidibus felt his hand twitch at his side, eyeing everyone and noting that none of them were lifting their hands. A heartbeat passed, before the Botanist hummed. 

"All for."

Eleven hands raised. Some of them with more hesitation than others, but once they had voted they moved to sit down, leaving Eschaton and the Emissary staring at one another. 

"Honourable Elidibus. Did you have further questions before you cast your vote?" The Botanist's eyes narrowed behind her mask, and he let Polite Smile Number Four settle across his face.

"No, Honourable Eschaton. After a moment of contemplation, I will choose to abstain."

"Very well. Three to abstain, one being myself due to personal bias. Eleven for. Let us lay rest to the topic and move onto the next item." Turning towards the board behind her, the Botanist jotted down the count of the votes, and then tapped the next item on the list. When she turned back to the rest of the Convocation, it felt like a weight had faded from the air, and everyone spoke more freely and smiled. "Preparations for the Festival of Lights are coming along nicely from what I could tell on my way into the city, however I would call Mitron and Lohgrif to the floor. This is their joint project, after all..."

* * *

"You manipulated them, using your Secret."

Persephone glanced back towards the Emissary as he caught up to her, just outside of the city. She was on her way back to the site they planned to use for the tower, and she answered him with the shrug of one shoulder. 

"I tipped them somewhat in my favour, but it wouldn't have worked if they were dead set against it. Not at that level, at least." Hauling herself up onto the back of the Chocobo, she patted the avian's flank and then glanced down at him. "Take yourself for example. You resisted it, because you were dead set against it."

"An abuse of your powers. I should have this brought up before the others."

"If you do, you know what will happen. I told you, back in the karaoke bar. Turn them against me, and everything will come crashing down." The Botanist's lips pulled into a frown. "Do you really want to be the reason the Convocation becomes thirteen?" 

"Again, you threaten me." The Emissary let Mild Smile Number Twelve cross his face. "First, you disrupt my Diplomatic mission. Second, you drug me and third, you actively manipulate the entire Convocation to bend them to your will. What, pray tell, is the point of a council if you simply commandeer the will of all involved to get your way?"

"It's to make decisions. But considering most of them decided to make a stupid-ass decision, I elected to ignore it." 

"It was fairly voted on, Botanist. They're just trees-"

"Why does that make it okay to kill them? Simply because you can't hear their voice, can't tell when they're in pain, does that mean that you have the exclusive rights to their End?" Swinging her leg back over the saddle, Eschaton dropped back down and scowled at him. "They're living beings with a greater vitality than yours and mine combined, Elidibus. They have born witness to more turns of the world than any two Convocation members together. They hold a living history within themselves."

"Persephone, our civilization stands to protect the free will of our people." The Emissary drew himself up, matching her in height and narrowing red eyes behind his mask. "You stepped on this-"

"-And I'd do it again in an instant."

"Do you think yourself above us, then? Better than us? The sole caretaker of the world, where the only rules that apply to you are the ones you make?" Elidibus let the words hang in the air for a moment as he studied her, marked the way her lips flattened into a thin line and the steel that wrapped the blue of her eyes became more pronounced. 

"Go back to your precious civilization, Emissary. The rules of Man hold no sway over Beasts."

She turned away, reached for her chocobo's reins and started to lead the avian away before the world around her was filled with dark fog. Gritting her teeth, the Botanist slapped the bird on the rump and sent it squawking and bolting out of the patch of roiling shadows that had settled into the area around her. The ambient sounds faded, muffled by the oppressive weight that had settled into the area, and she slowly kicked off first one boot, and then the other. 

Eschaton liked those boots. They had been a gift from Nabriales. It would have been a shame if they got damaged. 

"You will return with me to the Capital. There, you will admit to your crimes, and relinquish your title." 

The words had no discernible source, and the Botanist slowly shook her head with a sigh. 

"No, I don't think I will." 

Darkness tangibly thickened about her, and Eschaton closed her eyes and focused. 

* * *

Elidibus frowned, mildly puzzled at the shifting he could feel through the ground. One hand outstretched and clenched into a fist, he had sought to press her into the ground and encountered resistance. A great deal of it, in fact. Cautiously, he pressed down harder and watched as his Weighty Cloud roiled and condensed. There was no give, in where he knew Eschaton stood, even when the pressure increased to something that should have broken bones. 

He felt the spell shift, weakening before points of light began to shine through, and as he released it to prepare for another a form bound out towards him. 

Four limbed and covered in scales that each held a glowing dot, he could have measured himself up to it's thick, densely muscled shoulder and likely couldn't have wrapped his arms around it's torso. Six eyes stared at him from slits in the forehead, and a thick fanged maw parted wide enough for it to draw breath as it barreled towards him with all the surety of a small train on a set of tracks. Elidibus hauled himself to the side, leaning back as one of the forelimbs as wide as his torso snapped out with astonishing speed to roughly back hand him across the chest, to knock him sprawling as it skidded to a halt and spun to bear down on him again. Pushing himself up, he gestured and focused, sending tendrils of void and shadow across the ground to catch about it's feet. 

It did nothing to slow the beast down. The Emissary curled defensively in his panic and pulled the strongest shield he could manage into place as it swung and backhanded him across the ground, sending him tumbling before he pulled himself into a shadow. Surfacing a short distance away, Elidibus gingerly felt at his arm to make sure it wasn't broken and grit his teeth, wondering why it wasn't using it's claws. Pained smile working it's way across his face, he slowly lifted his gaze to where the beast was turning to stare at him, and he frowned as he realized that it's eyes were blue. 

It was Eschaton. She lifted her muzzle, as if daring him to attack her again as the scales around her head flared up and rattled against one another. He had a brief moment to decide whether or not to simply let her go before remembering the way he hadn't been able to lift his hand at the meeting. 

Polite Smile Number One reflexively snapped in place cross his face as bitter anger suffused him, before he dipped into a mocking bow.

* * *

She didn't want to hurt him. Bruising him had been inevitable, considering he had _technically_ attacked her first. Mostly though, she just wanted to leave. She had inevitably given up trying to persuade him, and with things how they stood fighting would only make things worse. Centuries of friendship were hard to shake in the moment, however, and she shook her head as he straightened from his bow. One hand was held behind his back, and she turned to go before abruptly halting at the crack that sounded out and the sharp pain that thrummed through her shoulder. Twisting to look, she reflexively ducked as a second slice of pain lanced across her face and caused her to bring her other hand up to protectively cover it. 

The altered form of the Render was too bulky to maneuver the way she wanted to. The densely packed muscles that generally would have let her shrug off attacks, in addition to the scales that sheathed her simply weren't doing anything. So she dropped them. 

In between strikes of what she identified as a whip, the Botanist's form abruptly compacted. Four clawed feet hooked into the dirt and sent her bolting to the side, furred tail curling behind her and helping her balance as she sharply turned left to get out of the way of the next strike. It cracked against the ground, and she closed the distance between them, lunching and tilting her fanged maw down so that she could headbut the Emissary in the stomach and briefly wind him-

Something large caught her across the side, sending her bouncing and skidding across the ground before she oriented herself. Four feline paws touched down and she pushed off, leaping up and avoiding the next strike before landing and staring at where Elidibus matched her gaze. A fine sprinkling of scales were visible across his lower jaw, and she mentally ahh'd as she noted the way a thick snake's tail supported him, emerging under the edge of his robes. 

Ophiuchus of the Forked Tongue indeed. 

What was the natural enemy of snakes? Oh yes, she remembered. Jaguars. Crocodiles. _Birds_. 

Fur gave way to feathers, and as she pushed herself up onto her hind feet they thickened and gripped the dirt as if they had been designed to. Lifting her head, she threw it back and warked loudly before scraping at the ground and charging. The Emissary bared his teeth, two of them longer than the others before hauling back and lashing out with the whip once more. A powerful kick had her skidding to the side out of the way, before a backhanded flick had it swinging across and catching her across the side. 

_Who do you think you are?_

The words resounded through her, faint and disquieting and filled with loathing. She ignored it as she flared her wings and caught her balance, closing the distance and dropping under the serpentine tail that swept across to try and knock her away. It ruffled the feathers of her crest on the way over, and she pushed herself back up and coiled her legs before driving them, one after the other, into his chest. The second one had more force to it, bodily knocking him back before the whip came across and struck her across the neck to send her tumbling down to the ground.

_Worthless. Pathetic. All you do, is get in the way._

The heavier tail thudded into the dirt where she had landed, avoided only by a quick kick off from the ground. The words were louder now, and she shook her head as they continued, trying to clear them from her mind. 

_You think yourself irreplaceable? Anyone could do your job. The only reason you have it, is because nobody else wanted it._

The tail swept her feet out from under her, and she hit the ground hard as she wracked her brain for what was going on. The whip cracked across her shoulders as she huddled, struggling. 

_Disgusting. The only reason anyone actually wants your company, is because of your Secret. People **have**_ _to like you. They don't have a choice. Without it, they would only be nice to you out of pity. The boy-child that was born broken._

* * *

Elidibus lowered his arm, catching his breath. Eschaton was a huddled mass of feathers, former white with blue banding bloodied and missing in patches. He would bring her back to Amaurot, he would take her before the Convocation and they would see that she had usurped their will-

The Botanist pulled bloodied, taloned feet beneath her, and pushed herself up. Reflexively, he raised the weapon once more before hesitating as she turned towards him and slowly limped over. Head down, she approached until she stood directly in front of him, and he bared his teeth. Slowly, she stretched a wing out to brush the tips of her feathers across a patch of his scales.

_(Pain. It echoed out through the world, the message carried by the network of roots themselves. Somewhere, an Ancient One was crying out as it was torn into. She twisted, redirecting her momentum as she ran with worry clenched deep in her heart. The closer she got, the more the pain itself felt like her own, transmitted between the pads of her paws and the trees themselves. And then, the pain faded, leaving horrified mourning in it's wake as she burst out of the treeline. One giant oak was on it's side, severed from the rest, and she lifted her muzzle to howl her despair.)_

_(She lingered and lurked, disrupting things in small ways as she tried to salvage the heartwood of the fallen tree, seeking to at least recover it's spirit. But she was too late. They had already hacked into it and cast it aside, nothing more than a dead piece of driftwood among the splinters of it's still living corpse.)_

_(Kill them all, said the resentment that built within the swaying boughs as the Greenwrath grew. They dare, they dare, kill them all. Kill them for harming our brother. Hunt them, hound them, we call upon you to do this thing in our name. But she couldn't. They were ignorant. Children, essentially. There must be another way.)_

_(She meditated and deliberated, attempting to sooth their anger even as she set the birds and beasts and bugs to buy her the time she needed. The next closest spot that could harbor such giants safely was miles away. It would be a journey, but with enough time...)_

_(She convinced them. It had taken three days to convince the ancient grove to move, to let go of their anger, and that was only with the promise that the pain inflicted upon them would be visited upon her. She had lifted her chin, set herself, and spread her arms as she welcomed them into her mind, her heart, let them revisit upon her the death their brother had felt repeatedly until finally, they were satisfied. She was left a gasping, sobbing wreck as she picked herself up and set her groggy thoughts towards what would have to happen next.)_

_(She never wanted to kill him. She barely wanted to hurt him. She watched as Elidibus choked on spores and kept them from seeding themselves too deeply. They just needed to make him sleep, and then they would wither and die and be broken down naturally by his body. Grimacing, she eased him across her shoulders as she grew into the form of a great white wolf, head coming up when one of her Enforcers approached. His stance relayed his irritation, and she folded her ears down apologetically, whining out that she knew, she knew, but he was her friend. She refused to kill him, and accepted that whatever happened, she would deal with it no matter what.)_

_(Self-loathing filled her as she reluctantly stopped throttling one of her passive Secrets. It was dirty. It was despicable. It was disgusting, reprehensible to let it shift the more malleable to her needs, but it was necessary. It would take two years to be able to move all of the Ancients to their new home, but in a year and a day -the traditional amount of time, really- she would be able to get them far enough away that the rest of the journey could be done in peace.)_

The Emissary jerked backwards, staring as the Eschaton collapsed on the ground in front of him, and dropped his whip.

* * *

Emet-Selch was hot on the trail of a small blue banded, white bird when he came across Elidibus carefully picking his way through the forest with his wife wrapped up in both his outer robes and his arms. Touching down heavily, he ran the last few feet and took a moment to inspect what he could see of her, heart in his throat. Setting his staff to float beside him, the Architect reached out to gingerly take her from the Emissary and looked back and forth between the two of them, eyes narrowing. 

"What happened."

"She protected me." Taking a moment to adjust his tunic, Ophiuchus slowly shook his head as a polite smile eased into place. "You can take her back to the city faster than I can. She needs to be returned to the Agricultural center, they can take care of her there."

Hades stared at him for a long moment, before gritting his teeth and drifting upwards. Rotating in mid-air, he tilted and began the flight back to leave the dark haired man behind.

Red eyes closed against the weight of what he had done, the Architect was too far away to notice how he stepped to the side and sat down heavily, back to a tree. Emet-Selch did not see how he tucked his head back and shook, finally letting the horror of what he had done bubble to the surface. Only the nearby trees and the tiny, climbing animals bore witness to the way tears began to streak his cheeks. 

Only the ants witnessed the way he drew his knees up, wrapped his arms around them and cried, convinced he had lost his friend.


	28. Ophiuchus of the Forked Tongue: Aftercare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People apparently wanted me to continue the previous chapter.  
So, uhh...  
Here you go.

Her Enforcers were faster than his. When they came for him, he was ready. They asked about what happened, and as tempted as he was to use the loophole of 'She has no Second, thus none of you have the authority' he remembered very clearly what she had said about the laws of Man. He still chose his words with particular care. 

"She protected me from something she called the Greenwrath."

It was his story, and he was sticking to it. Just enough information that he shouldn't have known to lend credence to his words. The weight of his weapon of office hung heavily within his aether, and he ignored it even as he wore Sad Smile Number Four. Yellow eyes narrowed at him as one of the grey-robed figures stared at him through their white mask. That one, the Emissary knew, would be difficult to fool but he played his part to perfection. 

"If you disbelieve, please, ask her when she wakes." 

White-robed figures were starting to pick their way closer, and the man he presumed was the Eschaton's unofficial Second scowled before turning and slinking away into the woods. The rest of the grey-robed figures followed, and Elidibus waited until his own Second had climbed up beside him.

"You know... We tend not to follow you, quite as close as... As... Well, any of the others, but..." Gloved fingers were poked together before the white-robed figure cleared their throat. "... If-if you keep getting into trouble like this... We might... Start needing to, Sir..."

The Emissary nodded slowly, before rubbing his temples with a sigh. 

* * *

Persephone woke slowly, surfacing from dreams that were jumbled and confused and laced with insidious whispers that questioned her self-worth. There was warmth beside her, and she tipped her head slightly to the side and sniffed quietly to pick up the slight scents of petrichor before cracking her eyes tiredly open with a slight smile. Hades, mask askew, was tucked up against her side with both of his arms wrapped around one of her own and was drooling slightly onto the pillow as he quietly snored. 

It was cute. He was _lovely_, and she was torn between wanting to wake him up and wanting to watch him sleep for just a little longer. 

_You don't deserve him. A powerful sorcerer? He has better things to do with his time._

A quietly snorted out scoff emerged her before she could stop it, and her husband's partially obscured brow crinkled. Slowly, one winter gold eye opened before widening as he propped himself up and let go of her arm in favour of setting one hand on her covered ribs. 

"Do you have any idea how worried you made me?" The words were strained, and he gave her an incredulous look as she started to laugh. Not very hard, as her ribs immediately protested it, but enough that she could feel him grow sullen and moody next to her. "'Tis _not_ funny, my dear."

"It is." Her voice was a dry rasp, and he immediately curled one hand through the air, pulling a cup of water into existence and starting to help prop her up so that she could take a sip. "... Thank you, Lovely. And it really is. You went from drooling to a hundred in under six seconds."

"I-" The Architect halted abruptly, flushing an ugly red and looking away as he wiped his chin and idly dried the pillow with a wave. "_Fine_, I drooled. But you were unconscious when I found Elidibus carrying you through the forest towards the town. What happened?"

"Well... Did he say anything?" The Botanist reached up to tug gently on his robes, pulling him against her side and sighing contently as he snuggled carefully against her. 

"He said that you protected him and neglected to mention from what." A quiet kiss was pressed against her shoulder, and Eschaton grimaced slightly. 

"Not _technically_ wrong, but that would be like saying I protected everyone at the meeting. He knew what I did, and he came to confront me on it." 

Emet-Selch went very still, and sat up so that he could study Persephone with a frown even as he reached up to remove his mask completely. "... Elidibus will take this to the rest of the council then. I will get you out of the city-"

"Do you love me, Hades?" She didn't look at him, gaze focused on her feet as she idly curled her sock-clad toes. Her question drew a soft huff from her husband, and he reached to take her by the chin and redirect her gaze to his own, looking baffled. 

"Persephone, I feel 'tis safe to say I have always loved you, right from when we were very little. What manner of question is that?"

"Oh, just checking." Eschaton let a slight smile cross her features as the tiny voice inside her head told her to wait, just wait for it, he would start bleeding from the nose any moment now for his lies. 

* * *

She was up and mobile by the time Hythlodaeus returned from work, and he delivered a stack of paperwork to the Architect before sending him groaning and dragging his feet into the study to catch up on what he had missed. The Botanist did a once-over of herself, took stock of her injuries and then promptly opened a window to take advantage of her husband's distraction to shift into the form of a bird. Collecting her robes in her claws, she spread her wings before freezing as two hands came down on her shoulders. 

"Where are you going."

Percy slowly tilted her head up to look at Rafail's worried expression, before coughing as uncomfortably as a bird could. It drew a shake of his head, before he leaned down to press a kiss against the side of her beak. 

"Make sure to be back before the midday meal. I went out and bought fish specifically for you." The hands shifted off of her shoulder, and she shifted to fondly run her beak against one of them before looking forward and diving out of the window. It was an easy enough flight, even with the drag produced by parts of the robes, and she landed on a window sill before knocking on it with her beak. A white-robed figure opened it, and she stared for a moment at the person that was clearly not Elidibus. 

He never had visitors. It must have been one of his Enforcers. She squawked before turning to go-

"I am here. Leave us."

The white-robed figure at the window hesitated, looking towards the bed. "B-but... Sir-"

"It will be fine." A wave from the Emissary, seated at his desk, had his previous visitor demurely bowing their head and heading for the door. He remained intent on the sheet music in front of him, jotting down notes in rapid succession as Eschaton slipped in, expanded back to her proper dimensions and slipped her robes on. Pulling a white mask out of the pocket, she tucked it into place and then moved to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

"... Did my Enforcers hurt you?"

"No, but I believe they likely have me under surveillance." Red eyes glanced over before Ophiuchus pushed himself up and away from the desk. Dipping into a polite bow, he slowly offered out his hand. "... May we speak in private, Honourable Eschaton?"

"Depends on who's asking." She warily eyed the hand, her own remaining folded in her lap as she watched him straighten. He hesitated, before reaching up to pull his mask free and set it on the bed beside her. 

"Ophiuchus."

The Botanist narrowed her eyes, before sighing. "If I see that _thing_ again, I'm going to do something incredibly stupid."

"You have my word that you never will." A pained smile settled across his face, and he dropped his gaze to the ground.

"Very well then." Standing up, she snagged him by the sleeve and offered a smile that was more of a grimace. "You had better make it count, though."

The Emissary nodded, before his shadow swept up to swallow them both. It spat them out on a familiar treebranch not far from the dismantled construction site, and she perked up as she realized where they were. Glancing up to the maskless Emissary, the Botanist quirked a brow and gestured to the densely packed trees. 

"Odd choice of venue." 

"A fitting one." Sitting down on the branch, Ophiuchus sighed and pushed back his hood, gesturing for Eschaton to join him. When she did, the white-robed Convocation member pointed out towards the cluster of larger ones that surrounded the construction site. "Those trees... Everything is made of aether, and those ancient giants hold nearly as much as the average Amaurotine. But for all that we believe they are simply trees, you have claimed they have a spirit of a sort. I presumed you meant that they were people, and I believed otherwise. How could something without a brain form complex coherent thoughts, after all? Such is anatomically impossible. At best, they would have the same limited reactionary actions as an elemental."

He dropped his hand, shaking his head slowly and letting Polite Smile Number Three drop to reveal the exhaustion that lingered beneath. "I was wrong. And I question why this information is considered... Myth. Legend. They possess the ability to feel emotions and express them in a greater range than most animals possess-"

"Stop. As close as you are, you also tread dangerously close to making another presumptuous error." The Botanist shifted to nudge him with an elbow, smiling slightly. "You're thinking that your intelligence is greater than that of an animals simply because you have a better memory. These trees hold a greater memory than you, and yet you rate them only slightly more 'intelligent' than animals. Which is right and wrong all at once and for the same reasons."

"I am listening, Percy." He matched her slight smile, before frowning. "If everything truly is equal, as you say..."

"Then everyone that has anything to do with the natural world is a mass murdering lunatic that takes and takes and takes without really giving anything back?" Eschaton let out a small, humourless laugh. "Congratulations, Ophi. You've figured out why we don't tell people. It's too big a change to be done quickly enough to really make a difference. It overrules everything almost every society is built on. But there is something that allows us all to live in some semblance of harmony, so long as I can do my job and protect the places and beings that need to be protected."

"Something that allows us all to live in a semblance of harmony." The Emissary frowned, trying to apply his knowledge of her duties and comparing them to his own. "Forgiveness?"

"Not quite. The ones that can do anything about it, forget, and the ones that can't, remember. But the ones that remember, for those who can listen, the ones who can hear their voices, they teach. Those that are taught, turn those that forget to the proper course, because they are the Altima, the Alpha. Because they have the knowledge and the ability to translate and guide. Because their word is law, guided by the knowledge and wisdom of the past. A lovely little circle." Eschaton's eyes clouded briefly, and she glanced away with a huff. "... I shouldn't talk about this for much longer. My Consequence is slowly eating memories from my mind because of it."

"How... How do you retain things, if your Consequence...?" Elidibus stared, red eyes wide as the Botanist smiled sadly and swung her feet, watching the wind dance through the trees.

"By listening, Ophi. By watching. By choosing to spend my time around people with impossibly good memories who can remind me of things."

"... I'm sorry, Percy." He looked away, feeling the way his stomach twisted. "Will you remember that I apologized?"

"I know." Reaching up to rub her temples, Eschaton cleared her throat and then dropped her hands back in her lap. "Even if I forget, I know you would. Same result, different path."

"How can I help? With the Greenwrath. With these trees." The Emissary reached out to gently rest a hand on one of her own, and she shrugged with one shoulder more than the other before she sighed. 

"Buy me time. Never use that horrible weapon again unless it's a matter of life and death. Listen to me, when I say that certain places must remain the way they are."

He couldn't promise her anything, but he nodded and smiled a hybridization of Agreeing Smile Number Three and Believable Smile Number Seven.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, not only does dark knight have the ability to summon their shadow as 'Esteem', but ninjas also have the ability to animate their shadow into another 'person'.  
I scrapped this chapter a number of times, sadly. But it is what it is. I'm not playing with it further.

_[Just because they are not your children, does this make them any less worthy of the shelter of your wings? No, that's the wrong question. Of course you still wouldn't shelter them. The remaining dregs of your brood are all but dead, driven to this remote corner of the world. You wouldn't protect strangers. You won't even protect your own.]_

_{Begone. I would rather spend my final days without thy presence.}_

_[Look, if you continue to sit on your tail and let the world pass you by, you are every inch as complicit in the end of the world as those that actively seek to bring about it's demise. Doing nothing when you could have done something... Is this truly how you want to be remembered? As one of the ones that could have fought to protect everything, but instead chose to stand aside?]_

_{Enough! I will not be baited nor goaded-}_

_[Your forebear made a pact with Hydaelyn. A pact that he has called on his children to uphold. I didn't **ask** to be reborn into this form. The Mothercrystal asked Midgardsormr to honour his oath, and thus I was called to serve. If I must do my filial duty, then so must you.]_

_{... Leave me to my grief, Hatchling.]_

_[Your grief is echoed by every mother and every wife that has lost spouse or child. Your despair is but one voice in a chorus that cries out in the hopes that those lost might rest peacefully. I have been dead. I have lost everyone I ever cared about. You think your pain to be depthless? Hydaelyn herself weeps for the lives lost for no reason other than the Ardor intend upon returning the very reason she was created to counter-]_

_{I will remain until the end of the realm! It is my penance!}_

_[The end of the realm is upon you. Now **move**.]_

* * *

Emet-Selch, to make sure that he didn't disturb the fitful slumber that Priscilla had finally settled into, let his consciousness drift into one of his other clones before teleporting to Garlemald. 

There, walked the halls of the palace as he gathered his thoughts. He had the beginnings of a plan in mind, but he would really rather stack the deck in his favour. That meant interacting with certain undesirables, which had brought him back to the last imperially inclined project he had worked on. Pushing open the door to the throne room, he meandered his way along the plush rug to where Zenos was idly listening to the nasal droning voice of the floating crellbron as a dozen of the Royal Guard silently kept their vigil. Kel'louch glanced up from the report and rolled over in mid-air, stuffing the papers into the current Garlean Emperor's hand and perked up as the Ascian approached. 

"The smitten Dark-Touched? What are _you_ doing here?"

"Great-grandfather." Zenos casually set the report down on the arm of the throne, inclining his head in greeting as the Architect returned the gesture. 

"Great-grandson. War Mage. 'Tis nigh time to set aside the affairs of state and get down to proper business." Emet-Selch turned slightly and sat down on one of the steps, stretching out his legs with a sigh. The crellbron drifted down and circled slightly with a tilt of his head, emaciated features pulling taught into a frown as he beckoned to current Emperor. Zenos echoed the sigh of his forebear, and made his way down the steps to join them at the base of the throne as the Architect continued. "While it pains me to admit this, to do so is a necessity so that you understand the severity of the situation."

"You found someone you could not beat." The blond swordsman's face split into a grin at the realization, and he leaned forward slightly as glee painted itself across his face. "A great foe, are they as powerful as our Savage?"

"'Tis not a foe she can defeat either, although she could be pushed to do so. My little Monster would go into that fight with a severe handicap and get herself completely and utterly decimated." Emet-Selch narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, grimacing. "We three Paragons barely drew even, and while we managed to drive him off I do _not_ enjoy the prospect of facing this individual again."

"Him, then. Oh, what a glorious feat this shall be, to defeat something not even the vaunted Warrior of Light could-"

"Severe handicap?" Kel'louch ignored the ranting Zenos, folding his legs and continuing to hover in mid-air. "From what I know of her, to be able to handicap her so ought to be impossible."

"Yes, well, it is _me_ after all." The Founding Father grimaced once more, slowly shaking his head as his great-grandson abruptly cut off mid-monologue.

"-require my aid not once, but twice, and both for such grand hunts- You?" Zenos turned from where he had paced away and dropped his hands to his sides, leaning back slightly as he stared at the Ascian. "She could kill you quite easily. How would such even be a challenge?"

"To do so would be like to tearing out her own heart, Boy, and likely more painful." The crellbron settled an elbow on one knee and rested his chin on his palm, patting the air with the other hand. "Continue, Dark-Touched. Even if the Boy's attention wanes, I will recall the words you speak today."

Emet-Selch nodded and steepled his fingers together as he settled in to start at what he believed might be the beginning.

* * *

_Hey._

The Warrior paused mid-step, the realization that she was dreaming hitting as her surroundings came into sudden clarity. Ruined buildings, some of them still burning surrounded her, and she realized it was the shell of Amaurot that Hades had invited her to. A glance took stock of her situation, drawing her attention to the long, ragged grey robes she was wearing and the red mask across her face. 

_Good. You're aware._

She -knew- that voice. Not because it was anyone important, but because it had become in part her own. She turned and caught sight of her armored reflection in the broken glass of a window, and frowned as he beckoned her closer. 

_Come here._

"Fray? I'd wondered what happened to you. You went quiet for a while there." Relaxing slightly, the Warrior made her way over to the glass and peered at the edges of it. If she shifted slightly, it looked more like an open window than a pane of glass, and acting on a whim she reached through it to anchor herself on the ledge and then climbed through. Dropping down the few feet into the calm, unburned streets of the Amaurot that was populated by animated shades, she welcomed the way the air felt cooler here and tilted her head to the side. "I thought maybe you did the same thing as Ardbert and merged with me proper-like."

"I 'merged' with you properly before Ardbert walked the Source." A scowl coloured Fray's words as he scoffed, before he folded his arms as he stared at her. "Do you know how exhausting it was, holding you together like that? Myste's _gone_. Though that might be because your emotional pain eased, too. Everything went fuzzy after the second Lightwarden. All I could do was try and balance you."

"Right, right, inner darkness and all that. I'd wondered. Thank's." The Warrior sheepishly rubbed the back of their head, grinning slightly though it faltered as white eyes narrowed at her. "... What."

"You're an idiot. You let people take advantage of you, bend over backwards to do things for people with only the barest word of thanks. Remember the postmoogles? Selfless to the point of being a doormat. A weapon, to be pointed at things that people think need to be killed, and now what. Now there's another big bad evil guy and just because of who he is, it physically _hurts_ you to think of killing him."

The remains of the grin across Priscilla's face evaporated, and for a moment she thought maybe she should have stayed in the burning version of Amaurot. She even turned slightly to glance at the window, trying to determine if she could still see it's reflection in the unbroken glass, but all that stared back at her was the tired, worn down jawline of the Eschaton. Fray clapped a hand on her shoulder, steering her back around to face him. 

"Coward. You already have one, and this other one can't be allowed to go back to whenever he's from and open that hole up for Zodiark to come through. You _know_ this."

"It's still _him_, Fray. Still Hades. Still the person that waited millennia for me-" The Warrior reached up to pry his hand off her shoulder, only to narrow her eyes as the armored figure simply clamped his hand back into place. "Let me go."

"Or what? You'll break my hand?" Fray answered his own question with a sarcastic snort. "I told you, I'd be here for you whenever you needed me. You've had two fragments rejoin you without you even noticing anything was different. You don't even have to kill him. You can manifest a second corporeal form, and you're strong enough now for it to last more than a handful of minutes. You know how strong he is. You know you don't want anyone you want to protect to get hurt. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The Warrior frowned faintly, before slowly nodding. "... I can't teleport though."

"Are you going to need to?" Fray's grin laced his words, and Priscilla let a quiet chuckle escape her as she shook her head. 

"No, I suppose not." 

"Good. Now wake up. We've got work to do."

The Warrior of Light opened her eyes to the darkness of the Architect's bedroom, and quietly slipped out of the bed she shared with her husband and their lover.

* * *

Urianger woke slowly, and turned his face into the pillow to enjoy the feel of the fabric and the scents of his lovers that lingered there. After a moment, he opened his senses to the aetheric and paused, lifting his head slowly and blinking at the empty vessel of Emet-Selch beside him and the Warrior that sat on the edge of the bed. She watched them with eyes that were almost a colourless grey, and everything about her soul was simultaneously right and wrong at the same time. 

It was a body composed of aether, he realized after several long moments, that was the oddity. The unusual. The _wrong_. Not a proper physical body, but a manifested one similar to that of a primal. She smiled faintly at him as he opened his mouth to ask.

"Hey, Uri. Sleep well?"

"Pray tell, what manner of enchantment hath thou woven to appear as Priscilla?"

Grey eyes narrowed thoughtfully, before the 'imposter' heaved a sigh. Darkness bled through her form before a white-eyed, armored figure sat in her place. The elezen sat up, understanding dawning across his face in the form of a frown, cautiously flexing his aether to strum the connection forged between the Architect and his Second.

"Fray."

"You know, we thought that might stand up a bit longer against your scrutiny. Sodding hell, that's not much of a head start at all." Folding his arms, the dark-skinned figure folded his arms and groused as he leaned back against one of the bedposts. "If it didn't work against you, what are the odds it'll work against Coma-Boy?"

"Thine intent is to stall to allow our paramour to do something foolish." A glance at the still unconscious clone between them deepened the astrologian's frown. "Slim to none. He is possessed of more acute senses than mine own. Where is Priscilla?"

"Gone for a walk. She needed some space." 

"Thou speaketh lies." Shifting slightly, Urianger watched as Emet-Selch's aether suffused the room and poured itself into the vessel on the bed. Pale gold eyes opened as a frown creased brows set beneath a Garleaen third eye, and the Ascian slowly sat up and stared at the armored figure on the edge of the bed. 

"I was _busy_, Augurelt, but on arrival I rather suddenly find myself somewhat understanding of why you needed to call for me. Did someone summon a primal of our little Monster?"

"Nay, Architect. Worse than that. This is Fray." The elezen's eyes widened as the conjured figure set down a leather bracelet and the chunk of purple crystal that the Warrior never went without. "Wait-"

The aether binding the form together unraveled, and the armored figure evaporated into motes of inky black, leaving the two on the bed staring at the space he had occupied. 

* * *

"They didn't take it well." 

"Some head start." Priscilla stretched, staring out at Azys Lla in the distance before dropping her hands to the curved black blades at her hips. Looking towards Fray, she grinned and quirked a brow as he hefted a claymore. "One in ten odds, I figure, that we pull this off." 

"Better than we usually do. We're still to fucking close though. Come on. Back in the allagan skiff. We need more distance than this. And this time, _I_ drive." He hauled himself over the side, and then held out a hand to help the Warrior up next to him. She nodded, and sat down in one of the seats before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. 

"... Alright. I think I've got us hidden properly. Just try not to turn too sharply, yeah?"

The manifestation snorted harshly and shook his head as he turned the key and powered up the machine.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Sundered Eshaton and Elidibus are working together, and end up in combat defending each other  
For Wistala

Elidibus had just stepped out of the conference in Carrow when the Doom abruptly cracked the ground open like an egg. He staggered, one hand coming out to brace against the building before he snapped his head up and turned to put his back to the wall as screams began to erupt from part of the city. Fear made his blood run cold and he closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Tried to push it back, locked it behind a polite smile and only opened his eyes when he heard the thud of massive footsteps approaching. 

It was four-legged, somewhat resembling a dog, save that where it's head should have been there was only a single, massive eye. It blinked at him with a wet schlick, and the furred flesh beneath the large orb split horizontally into a maw that went back to it's shoulders. The growl that rumbled out of it buzzed through his bones, and he could feel the way something tugged on the edges of his essence-

An enormous white wolf crashed into the side of the creature, staggering it before snapping jaws down and tearing one of it's legs out from under it. Prone, it then lunged and tore into the eye, drawing pained howls from the creature before the orb finally popped and it went still. The wolf turned towards him, before shimmering into a bloodied Eschaton who strode towards him and took his face between her hands. 

_Be brave_. Her lips moved, and he could trace the words as they rang through him. The tugging along the edges of his essence fell away, and he found himself straightening as steel wrapped blue eyes devoured him. Calm washed through him in a wave as he drowned, until he felt himself drifting peacefully instead.

Her hands released his face even as her eyes gently let him go. Sucking in a breath, he shook his head as sounds around him clarified. It felt like he was emerging from underwater, and frowned at her as he registered the continued screaming and idly noted how calm he felt. 

"You used a Secret on me."

"I had to. You were pulling something into existence above you. When you get out of this though, there is an incredibly high chance that you _will_ have a panic attack, however, so please be careful." She glanced around, grimacing at the way a haze was starting to cloud the air. 

"What are-no, I need not ask that question. You fully intend to fight the Created monsters to buy the survivors time to flee in the hope that those that manage to, might either control their emotions or avoid the infection." Elidibus watched the way Eschaton paused, and then turned a wry smile his way.

"It's part of my job. Protecting the Living. You should return to Amaurot while you can." She turned and bound down the street, form warping and twisting mid-step into that of the enormous, spined white wolf. Staring at her, the Emissary turned and reached out a hand as if to pull the shadows around him and paused. Right then and there, she had given him at least some form of a resistance, he theorized. The sound of paws thudding against the road drew his attention to the dozen black furred wolves that thundered past, and he recognized the yellow eyes in the lead. 

Were they fearless, he wondered? No. That wasn't it. He could still feel his own fear, corralled and penned in to be dealt with later. It was bravery. It was to act in spite of terror. To do what they must, as the pack roamed the city, hunting the Created monstrosities. 

Steeling himself, the Emissary flourished his fingers to alter his attire into something less restricting than tight leathers, and sank into his own shadow.

* * *

Eschaton leapt aside as talons raked through the space she had occupied, ignoring the way they sank into the broken stone wall she had settled against and spinning in place. A lunge before the multi-limbed avianesque creature got out of range closed her jaws around one of the feet. It started to lift her from the ground before black shapes flit out of the buildings nearby and bit into more limbs. Between the thirteen of them, they dragged it to the ground where one of them let go and savaged its throat. It dispersed with a gurgle and a burst of aether, before one of her pack members yelped and staggered. 

Red splattered down from where a leech-like creature had latched onto their flank, and they spun in place to present their flank as two wolves sunk their teeth into the Created creature and tore it free. They were more cautious after that, catching the lurking worms before they could strike and tearing them into pieces. All that remained in the section they had cleared was a few household pets left to wander and fend for themselves for the time being, and they shared nods as they turned and started for the center of the city. 

Carrow was a city of a thousand debaucherous pleasures, where the import and export of exotic goods was the lifesblood of the citizens and it showed in the variety of the monsters that were spawned. They tore through everything from the anatomically impossible to the downright weird, and raced along one of the canals only to abruptly scatter as enormous, rubbery arms snaked out and snatched up two of their pack. One died with the sickening crunch of ribs giving under the sudden strain, and the other struggled and fought to get free before looking surprised as shadowed jaws phased into being around them. 

The jaws snapped shut, and the trapped wolf vanished as the vaguely reptilian snout faded. They stumbled out of a nearby alley, shaking themselves as Eschaton dashed to the side, avoiding the corpse of her Enforcer and let out a rallying howl. Tentacles shuddered, reaching out and swiping to try and catch more of the wolves, recoiling with every snap of jaws that tore into the thick, rubbery hide and carved out chunks.

Every time they came close to catching one of the Botanist's pack, the shadows surged up to bat away the offending limb, and eventually they hauled the writing mass free of the canal and tore through what seemed to pass as it's head. They took a moment to catch their collective breath, licking their wounds and lifting their snouts in a farewell howl for their fallen brethren as Eschaton padded to the entrance of the nearby alley. 

Red reptilian eyes stared back at her, and she briefly considered the likelihood of successfully convincing him to return to Amaurot only to shake her head and chuff out an amused sound. A forked tongue flicked out, before the blunt, scaled nose eased out of the alley to peer at her pack. Two feathered wings slowly opened, flexing as the rest of his bulk slid free, and the Botanist's pack turned as one and silenced to stare at him. 

Persephone licked the tip of his snout, and looked to the rest of her Enforcers with her ears perked and wagged her tail slightly. One whuffed cautiously, and she panted laughter in answer. Some of them shared glances before nodding, and she idly shouldered her friend. 

Ophiuchus quietly hissed, and gave her a fixed reptilian grin, nodding upwards. She seemed to catch his drift, nodding and looking towards the heart of the city and letting out a low growl. It was where she perceived the greatest threat to linger, and he beat his wings before taking to the sky, wheeling once as Eschaton collected her pack and raced towards danger. 

* * *

He felt that he only kept pace because he could fly. They were _fast_, for all that they wore the shapes of land-bound creatures. They quickly worked out a system where he would bait the flying monsters into range of their fangs, and then support as they tore their prey to pieces. It was remarkably effective until they came to the ruins of what had once been the beating heart of the city of Carrow. 

In the center of the plaza that had once hosted countless concerts, stood a man. Impossibly handsome by the standards of the local populace, he had solid black eyes that matched his waist-length hair and wore nothing but tight leather pants. A slender two handed sword was rested over his shoulder, and he idly pet the bound figure before him. They were tethered to his waist by a leash, and lacked discernible features with how they were shrouded by a bodysuit. Arms tied behind their back, the only bit of flesh that was visible was a toothless mouth, and they crawled along on their knees as he turned and took a step towards them. 

"What's this? A pack of beasts? Good. You will be my hunting hounds, and together we will bring this world to it's knees-"

Eschaton's furred form rippled, and she brushed herself off as she looked between the man and his pet. "This? This is the strongest Fear in this city? Something it excels at? What, are you lacking the knowledge of aftercare? Is that what made you so fearsome to the people that were here?"

The man blinked, tilting his head before letting out a delighted laugh. "My, your mind is a steel trap. For all that you should be filled with the urge to prostrate yourself before me, all I seem to have done is loosen your tongue. Won't it feel better, to give up your control? Think of how _freeing_ it would be, to submit."

"Ohh, I understand now. You are the embodiment of everything supposedly _normal_ people fear about the esoteric tastes of some of the people of this city. A stereotype given life. The fear that you might be _true_." The Botanist grimaced, eyeing him up and down before shaking her head. "I'd bet your teeth are pointed too."

He smiled at that, before unclipping the leash from his belt and letting it fall. Leveling the two-handed sword, he tisked and shook his head. "All alone save for your pack of dogs and a flying snake. How many are you willing to lose?"

"You say that like you think death might scare any of us." 

"Doesn't it?" The Created Monstrosity quirked a perfectly arched brow, narrowing his eyes as she laughed. 

"Everything dies eventually. But I guess you wouldn't understand that, being barely an hour old as you are."

* * *

Elidibus circled overhead, weighing his options as the Botanist bought time for her pack to fan out and slowly circle the odd humanoid Creation. The shape of it's aether was all wrong, spiking out unevenly. It seemed as though the bound form that lingered where he left it was what he was using as an anchor. As Eschaton drew him further and further away from the 'pet', he twisted and dove down to hit the ground in a puddle of shadow, leaving concealing rifts of it in the air as he reached out with hands and tried to collect the bound individual only to recoil as a two-handed sword swept across. Dropping abruptly under the strike and through a patch of shadows, he stepped out behind the Botanist and let Polite Smile Number Two settle across his face. 

"The other one is the source." 

"Do you have any way to disrupt it?" Eschaton didn't bother to spare him a glance, simply watching the way the Creation slowly turned towards them with a particularly nasty smile across his face.

"... No." 

"Then I guess I have no choice. Buy me some time?" Pursing her lips, she whistled a sharp, high note that had the rest of her pack growling and backing off. "... You have good reflexes. I get the feeling he could move faster though."

"Incoming." The Emissary's warning prompted them to step apart as the Creation lunged, crossing the distance and then swiping towards the Botanist. She simply tucked her hands behind her back and skipped out of the way. Everywhere she stepped left a small patch of grass growing up through the cracks in the concrete, and she began to hum a soft series of notes. Elidibus crouched down to sketch a rune, before straightening and narrowing his eyes at the way she kept just outside of the reach of the sword. 

A shake of his head had his hand settle at his waist, and he idly thumbed along the leather that manifested in his grasp. He weighed it's effectiveness against something that likely had no regrets, and stifled a grimace. No, there wasn't likely anything that it would elicit from the Creation's limited awareness that might cripple it. 

Still, he could feel the way Eschaton was drawing on the ambient aether and working to weave it in a particular way. It seemed like it would take some time, and as such he took two steps forward and let the whip uncoil from his side. A third step and it cracked out, wrapping about the blade and pulling the Creation's aim off. 

The Botanist had been right. The Creation _could_ move faster. In fact, it did, crossing the distance between them with the point of the sword leading the way. Elidibus snagged part of the whip's length, slipping aside and wrapping it about the blade once more and applying his foot to the extra length of the sword to ground the point and staggering as a knee caught him in the stomach. The creation took advantage of the space to spin and slide the sword free of the whip and bring it across horizontally, giving him an ugly look as he abruptly sank down out of the way. He came back up through the rune, lifted the whip and struck the Creation across the back.

* * *

She _hated_ that whip. Faced with a sword that acted as a natural extension of it's body (and had likely been pulled into existence with it) he had a better chance against the Creation with it than without. The Emissary even seemed to know how to properly use it, very nearly pulling the feet out from under their foe save for how they went into an abrupt handstand and kicked their way free. 

Eschaton put the matter out of her mind, and focused. 

Everyone knew that she couldn't sing. Anything that required rhythm was often crooned so horribly that people fled. If anyone asked any of the Convocation members, twelve of them would swear up and down that they would rather she didn't even try. One, however, would abstain from answering. 

He knew the truth. There were different types of music, and there was one that she excelled at. It was wordless, it was the music of the wind dancing through the trees and the thundering of storms that heralded the turning of the season. It was wolves howling at the moon, and freshly thawed brooks that babbled. 

It was _spring_, and it danced through her veins. But there was more to it than that. It was the celebration of new life, a hundred voices crying out in joy as they welcomed their newest family members into the world. It was people sitting around a campfire and laughing after seeding the ground with the hopes and dreams of a bountiful harvest. A wordless, all encompassing song that was felt more than heard and whispered by the brief ephemeral beauty of cherry blossoms. 

The Song rolled out of her in waves as she finally came to rest and sank to her knees, head bowing as the aether about her began to thrum. She was distantly aware of the crack of a whip as footsteps approached, the way those steps staggered and then darkness as Elidibus thickened the air about her with his shadow. 

The ground beneath her cracked, and while the Doom threatened the edges of her mind it was not what burst through the road.

* * *

The Emissary was bruised, and slowly growing more and more irritated as the seconds rolled past. The Creation was physically superior to himself, which meant he was forced to step twice as fast and failed to half the time. He had thus far managed to avoid getting impaled, though the tears in his robe across either side of his chest attested to the close calls he had thus far managed to get himself through. 

It was _learning_, was the problem. Elidibus was limited in where he could utilize his favourite method of escape. He could pull his own shadow up, or step down through another. This meant that his escape routes were directional, something the Creation was beginning to figure out. Less and less were the opportunities where he could drop down to get out of the way of the blade. 

He realized his mistake a second after he made it, utilizing the anchoring rune and vanishing, reappearing atop it and blinking down at the sword that had swept across to intercept him. He tried to slip back out of the way, bringing one arm up to try and slow it and only succeeding in watching as it sank part way through his arm. It would have gone further, save that the ground abruptly cracked and a tree burst up out of the ground to cushion the worst of the blow. It rapidly grew around the sword, imprisoning it, and as he hit the ground the Emissary winced and pushed himself back up, expecting another attack. 

One never came, and instead he made a slow circuit around the tree to abruptly halt and swallow back the startled sound that had threatened to work it's way free of his throat. 

The Creation was slowly dissipating, slumping against the bamboo that had grown out of the ground with enough explosive force and speed to impale him. A glance around the area located the shielding barrier he had placed over the Botanist, and he carefully picked his way through the rapidly expanding ring of ferns that had sprouted in the immediate area. Polite Smile Number One settled across his features as he watched her exit the patch of darkness, and she cleared her throat before gesturing down at the Carrow citizen that was crawling along the ground after her, whimpering. 

"Bamboo, ferns and an oak?"

"The trick was to build and hold the aether until they would have been fully grown, and release it all at once. It won't last, though. It's all already succumbing. My pack and I will head back to our original destination, but I need you to take this person with you. Maybe they can learn something about how the Doom effects people." Eschaton smiled faintly, before shrugging. "I still have a few things I need to look into. I feel like I might be close to a solution."

"You don't have time. We didn't expect it to reach here for another year." The Emissary crouched down, collecting the leash and shaking his head. "Good luck, Percy." 

The Botanist grimaced at that, and nodded. 

"Thank you. I might need it."


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Lycelle  
Elidibus reminiscing about that one time with Priscilla

Elidibus was frustrated, in a plethora of ways. His legendary patience was wearing thin with the lack of progress on the Ardor, for all that Emet-Selch had just triggered a Calamity. Zodiark had managed to speak to him for the briefest of moments for the first time since the Sundering, and had filled his head with such a confusing tangle of _things_ that it would take years to sort through all of them. Altima was in one of her recalcitrant, sulking moods because she had, once again, failed to deliver what was expected of her and had spurned his offer of protection. 

The Warrior of Light knocked down primals almost as fast as they could be summoned, and was rapidly growing in strength. Moreover, he had erred and foolishly killed off the last vessel he had used to interact with them. He had _hoped_ that their abrupt disappearance had meant they had gotten killed by Bahamut, but of course it could not be that easy.

It was never that easy. 

On top of it all, Mitron had just gotten himself killed. That meant diverting Igeyorhm's time to finding him again in the Lifestream before Hydaelyn got Her hands on him. Emet-Selch would be able to do so faster, but had disappeared into his Vaults and was liable to sleep for a decade before bothering to check in on anything. That left him to clean up and manage things in tandem with Lahabrea, who had volunteered to spearhead efforts in Eorzea to lift some of the workload from the eternally tired Elidibus. 

An Emissary who was, in fact, currently seated by his desk with his arms dangling down towards the ground, idly thumping his masked forehead against the solid mahogany work space he had long-ago crafted for himself. He couldn't tell what was worse, the fact that his sanity was slowly eroding under the ages regardless of what steps he took to preserve it, or the fact that _they were barely half-way to their goal_. Something had to change. Maybe he could convince the Warrior of Light to fight for the memory of the Amaurotine citizens lost. 

Maybe he could convince them to sleep with him too. It had a better chance of happening, considering what he knew of them. Seduction was not his preferred route. He had already tried it, in fact, with mixed results.

* * *

The rogue was drunk, which was unsurprising. He had long since ceased wondering how she managed to function, let alone walk straight. He had asked her once how her liver was still working and she had simply tilted her head, face inscrutable behind the mask and yet somehow still managing to give off an air of confusion. 

She stared at the drink in front of her as she perched on the barstool, ignoring conversations and eavesdropping on them with equal idle boredom. He sat next to her, nursing his third beer and debating how much more it might have been safe for him to drink before she turned slightly to glance behind her. A burly highlander had sidled up behind her and leered down, reaching out to clamp a hand on her shoulder. 

"Heard you was easy, lass. Me and the boys-" 

He later admitted he might have been drunk, but the laughter that his blizzard pulled from the rogue when he encased the offending hyur from the waist down had made the ensuing fight worth it. He limped out of the bar with a black eye and a cracked rib, partially supported by the rogue as she kept one of his arms looped over his shoulder and periodically snickered. They were both soaked, and when he offered to pull fire out of the aether to warm them up felt a grin cross his features at how she threw her head back and laughed. 

"Nah, mate. Ale's flammable. You'll light us both up like straw men after the harvest. But I'll tell you what, I got a better idea for warmin' us up." 

He didn't really follow her meaning until he realized they were outside of an inn, and doubted himself until she rented a single room and helped him up the stairs. Ears red, he blinked as she started to strip and threw her sodden clothes into a pile, pausing with her hands on the edge of the bindings across her chest. 

"... 'Less you don't want to. You've been starin', and I though since you got pissy someone tried to touch me that you were being jealous-protective."

The thaumaturge laughed at that, before wincing. "No! No, I do, I just have some cracked ribs. Fragile glass canon, do recall."

"Good." He could hear the grin in her voice. "I got an idea then. Lay back on the bed." 

* * *

He remembered it well. _Too_ well, if he was being honest. The way she had teased off his pants, slipping them down and stroking along his length even as she moved to straddle his thighs. When she had reached to take off the mask, he had instinctively asked for her to leave it on, and though it had caused her some confusion he had insisted. And bribed her, if he was being honest, by inviting her to sit on his face instead. He couldn't risk his poor ribs, after all. 

He could remember the way she tasted. The way she rocked against his lips and tongue as he hooked his arms around her thighs. The way, as she neared her peak, she reached to wrap dexterous fingers around his neglected length in the interest of 'fairness'. 

He narrowed his eyes and licked his lips, eyes darting to the way his robes were no longer laying flat across his hips, and heaved a sigh. As much as a physical vessel was a necessity for much of his work on the Source, there _were_ drawbacks. For all that he considered himself beyond the needs of the flesh, it would take less time to work through it than it would to simply hope it would go away.

Elidibus ensured his office was locked and his wards were in place with a wave, before he removed his mask and set it on the desk. Ophiuchus gestured, dismissing the outer layers of his robes and reached to unbuckle his belt. Closing red eyes, he leaned back and teased the ties of his pants open, remembering the way her fingers had almost delicately flicked across the strings. 

He could hear her chuckle, remembered well the way the callouses on her hand had felt and let himself wonder what it might have been like if he hadn't redirected her. Would she have been gentle? She had been surprisingly considerate, for all that she could eviscerate people with a single swing of a blade. 

A thought had his gloves joining his robes where they were neatly laid out across the spare chair, and the Ascian tipped his head slightly to the side and let his imagination take over, blending memory with the moment he was allowing himself to indulge in. Once more, he was lounged back in the bed. Once more, she straddled him, but this time his ribs were healed. This time, the mask across her face was an Amaurotine half-mask, red and bearing geometric patterns across the center of the forehead. Six tiny wing-like protrusions held her hair back and anchored it over her ears, and steel wrapped blue eyes smiled down at him as he stared up along the length of her torso. 

She was wet, and as she came down from her high they were both sober. There would be no rolling over and going to sleep. Instead, she pushed herself up and shifted down his form, replacing her hand with her cunt and slowly easing herself down. She would sheath herself completely, suck in a breath and just as she did with all things in life utterly lack hesitation as she settled her hands on his stomach and immediately begin to roll her hips in a small circle. 

Ophiuchus rocked his hips as he squeezed his own length, using two fingers to smear his own pre around the head and shaft, thumb and ring finger shifting the foreskin down. 

_Mm, Ophi, I can feel you twitching within me. Are you so eager to blow your load?_

The Ascian smirked, before it faded and he groaned instead. In his minds eye, she had started to lift and lower her hips, leaving just the head within her heat before sliding down to take him to the root and then grind downwards as he bucked up into her. His hand followed the movements she would have made, squeezing lightly to mimic the way her inner walls would have until she leaned back. The alternate angle drew her lips into a round 'o' of ecstasy, and he reveled in the moan that erupted from her throat.

One of his hands settled on her hip to pull her down and meet his thrusts. She had been in 'control' for long enough. It was his turn. 

_Fucking hells, Ophi!_

She would be surprised by the force of his thrusts. She would gasp and moan, hands coming up to cup her own breasts, pinching her own nipples so that he could see how it made her inner walls flutter around him. Her eyes would roll up into her head as he hit that spot within her again and again and again until her orgasm shook her to her very core, and he would fuck her through the wet, hot tightness that would drive him to follow her over her peak. He would keep her anchored to him, grip on her hip unshakable as he filled her...

Ophiuchus drew in a sharp breath as he belatedly realized he hadn't covered himself with anything _absorbant_, and as he caught his breath and stared at the liquid white that painted his knuckles and dripped off the underside of his desk he admitted that he might have a problem. A wave cleaned the mess up, before he reached for his mask only to hesitate. A heartbeat later and he reached for it with his other hand, feeling rather suddenly disgusted with himself. 

One shower later, and Elidibus was once more seated at his desk, trying to think of ways around the problem that was the Warrior of Light.


	32. Chapter 32

It wasn't exactly common knowledge that Zenos could teleport. The first few times had been to test whether or not he could, and for all that it felt _odd_ he was slowly getting better at it. It wasn't quite fast enough to use in combat and took a moment to concentrate on where he needed to go, but through a great deal of trial and error with Kel'louch he learned he could travel much the same way that Ascians could. 

The hardest part was finding his destination. The crellbron had taken him to an aetherite and explained how his people were tapping into the way they acted as beacons, and after two arduous hours he felt he could reasonably attune to an aetherite and teleport back to it provided he could focus long enough to find it. It was something any Eorzean mongrel could do, and so he reasoned that he should be able to do it too. 

Still, he had to physically _go_ to each crystal before he could attune to it, which meant that once his great-grandfather left he finally got around to ordering the fastest Garlean airship in the fleet to arrive and spent the next four bells ignoring diplomatic protocol and instead visiting every aetherite location that was known to his forces. They hadn't been very happy to see him in Ala Mhigo, but he had largely brushed off any glares and simply went back to the ship before continuing on his way. It was on his little road trip that the captain of the airship called him to the bridge because of an oddity. 

An ancient Allagan craft, flying low and headed towards the Burn. Scans implied two people on board, but without a proper way to get a visual it was impossible to say who. Only that they weren't broadcasting a Garlean signal.

His instincts told him that his Beast was on that craft, and he immediately ordered the captain to pursue it even if it meant turning around and heading back the way they had come. It took another thirty minutes to catch up to it, and while it could turn on a gil and evade the _ship_ due to it's smaller size, he had a plan. He left standing orders to keep pace with the smaller craft, made his way to an airlock and closed the inner door behind him. His grip on one of the hanging metal rings set into the ceiling for air-drop purposes was all that kept him from being sucked out of the small chamber when he kicked the door open, but as the pressure balanced with what was outside he let it go and carefully leaned out. 

His instincts had been correct. If he squinted and shook his head to get his hair out of his face, he could see the two occupants of the Allagan skiff. One wore black armor that glinted in the harsh glare of the spotlight, and the other was unmistakably the Warrior. A moment of focus let his eyes bleed to black and red, and he found himself puzzled at the way it appeared there were two of his great-grandmother in the skiff and nobody else. 

Well. No matter. The crellbron looked like her when studied aetherically as well. It was probably just another fragment. He put it out of his mind as he clawed his way along the side of the ship, minding his sword revolver, and gathered himself. Long range teleportation, he needed a beacon. Short range, however, he simply would have to factor in the momentum and physical space required.

He couldn't move the portals, but he wouldn't need to. At that speed, it would take him only so long to drop down into the craft. Which meant he would have to come out...

Darkness swirled around him, and he vanished from his perch on the nose of the airship.

* * *

"They're not giving up."

"Fray-"

A void portal opened before them, and the craft rather suddenly dipped and slowed under the weight of another, much heavier armored figure. Zenos straightened, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to survey the surprised Warrior. 

"Great-grandmother."

"Uhh... Look, I'm a bit busy kid. Could you do me a favour and just, I dunno, go back to your own boat? And leave me alone?" Priscilla cleared her throat, and poked her fingers together. 

"And miss the fun? Great-grandfather told me of the foe you intend to face. I refuse to allow you to simply steal a march on me." Reaching into his collar, he felt for something around his neck before dropping his hand to his side. The airship behind them slowed, backing off before turning to start heading for Garlemald. 

"Emet-Selch did what?" She let out an indignant squawk, before pausing and narrowing her eyes at the Garlean Emperor. "Okay, hold up. There's something you need to know. There's _two_-"

"I know. He said this other one was from a future where humanity lost and died, and was as powerful as three Ascian Paragons. A foe that you would fight crippled by a handicap, and inevitably lose to. You are _my_ prey, Beast." He flashed a grin that was all teeth, red on black eyes glowing in the pre-dawn darkness now that the spotlight was absent. "You invited me to hunt by your side. Ahh, unless you truly _did_ mean to insult me by excluding me from this one, then I must presume you were headed 'cross the Burn to call upon my blade."

"Zenos-"

"I have experience with killing my forebears, Savage. This makes me uniquely suited to this hunt."

The Warrior stared at him, grimacing and cringing all at once before Fray leaned around the bulky, armored form standing in the middle of the craft. 

"He's got a point, you know."

"Fuck you." Her immediate response drew a chuckle from the Garlean as he detached his sword revolver and sat down in an empty seat.

"Your fragment agrees with me. It is settled then. Now, why are you actually headed into the Burn?"

"If you don't tell him, I will."

"'Course you would, you're probably why he's the way he is." The Warrior groused, glaring at Fray before shaking her head and looking back at the glowing red patterns that studied her in the slowly brightening light as the sun began to edge over the horizon. Sighing, she scrubbed her hands back through her hair and nodded. "Alright, alright. So. We figure he's here because I died in the time he's from. Completely and utterly. Fed to his god, in fact. He wants to do the same thing here, but keep me as a prize, right? So I'm going to lure him out and Fray's going to buy me the time I need to figure out how to carve the Emet-Selch out've him. I've done it before, just not with this mass of people to tempering ratio, I don't think. I'm guessing for most of the math for this, and since I'm shite at numbers anyways it doesn't really matter."

"Where do you plan to put my Great-grandfather's essence? Do you plan to flee or fight once you have it?" Leaning back so that the wind could catch and toy with his hair outside of the small area of calm that the glass windows provided, Zenos clasped his hands together and chuckled at the way she glowered at him. "I suppose I should have expected no less from you. You never did seem to have a plan, other than throw yourself at your foe until, finally, they fall instead of you."

"Look, the first casualty's always the plan right? So it's generally best if I have a guideline and goals instead."

"And what will you do if you are immobilized instead of killed? I could remove your limbs, and provided such was not _fatal_ you would be helpless. Ah, but we presume he has the same designs for you as my native Great-grandfather. That rules mutilation out, but not other less enjoyable forms of rendering you useless. How do you intend to counter this?"

"You're just seven types of infuriating and intent on ruining this for me, aren't you." The Warrior folded her arms, scowl deepening as she hunched her shoulders. "I'll be _fine_."

"A child could incapacitate you. 'Tis as simple as preventing you from being able to kill yourself to force your body to heal. Never underestimate the intelligence or cunning of your opponent, my friend. Your foe this time has had plenty of time to fantasize, theorize and strategize about how to neutralize the threat that you represent." Reaching up to tap a finger against his temple, Zenos let the Resonant fade and then rested an elbow against his knee, propping his cheek against his fist and looking almost bored. "You are straight forward when given the chance to be. He will use this and your greatest weaknesses against you." 

"Why do you think she came alone?" Fray didn't bother to glance back, steering with one hand as he kept the Allagan craft pointed out over the endless sands. 

"A smart move, but he will see it as a trap and be wary. Which means 'tis truly a blessing that I happened across your trail when I did, my friend. He will think nothing of my presence if we spar, and the location could be seen as your insistence on keeping others out of the reach of my blade. Or, barring that, should he know of our more amiable relations, the worst thing he might do is attempt to threaten me to target your bleeding heart get you to stand down." 

"Y'know, I sometimes forget that you're supposed to be this brilliant strategist that grew up excelling in everything, and that you just got really _bored_ with life in general." The Warrior blinked at Zenos, before sighing as he smirked. "Not just some bloodthirsty hound, and that's on me for letting that slip."

"I have learned a great many things in my life, this is true. But what I _don't_ know, is how you intend to escape his hold should he bind you to one spot or otherwise tether you. Your mobility is your greatest asset in combat, and precisely what I would shut down first."

"He's not. And it isn't. That fucker's going to stifle her Echo before anything else. It's too risky otherwise, and he could probably do the same with your Resonant." Fray turned slightly to peer back at the Garlean, white eyes narrowing. "If he does that, I'm to make his life as difficult as possible until his focus breaks and she can do things again. You, though, probably wouldn't notice much of a difference considering you're an absolute _unit _with or without it."

"If he tries to immobilize me though, I can cut through aether. Provided my Echo's working, I could probably physically break free of anything the same way I peeled cermet paneling off of the Praetorium walls." Priscilla unfolded her arms and flexed her fingers, lips curling into a soundless snarl as she took a deep breath. "I just have to be mad enough."

"Are you mad enough?" Zenos leaned forward slightly, watching the way she slowly looked up and met his eyes. His own widened at the way hers were more steel grey than blue, and a slow grin crawled across his face until he was practically baring his teeth at her. 

"He killed one of my friends last night."

"A poor tactical choice on his part, my friend, my Savage Beast. I look forward to helping you tear him limb from limb."

Slowly, her soundless snarl matched his wolfish grin, before fading as Fray snorted. 

"As fun as it is for her to finally be true to herself again, this should be far enough out and I don't feel like baking in the sun all day. I'm going to park in the shade of those rocks there."

* * *

Hades sat on the couch in his living room with his legs crossed and his forehead propped up on one hand. Hours of searching the aether had turned up nothing, which meant either she was on one of the Shards or had gotten kidnapped again. She could only have traveled to another shard with the help of an Ascian, which meant if she _was_ on one of them, that she _had_ been kidnapped. Correspondence with the Exarch by way of Tataru had confirmed she had not gone to the First. 

Urianger had said that this... 'Fray', had mentioned she had sought a head start. A head start for what? For getting captured? A quiet, high note of subdued hysteria came from the back of his throat, and he lifted the chunk of his own essence that she had left behind. He had no way to find her without doing an extensive, ilm by ilm search of the Source and hoping that he happened across her path. 

The Architect that had stepped back into the past was more powerful than him. Even if he _did_ scour every ilm of the Source, there was a very good chance she would remain shrouded from his view. Without the crystal he held in his hand, he had an exactly three percent chance of ever actually finding her if he looked. 

He lowered his hand when he noticed the way it shook, and resumed staring blankly at the wall. He didn't even blink when the door opened and footsteps rushed towards him, only shifting slightly when the elezen physically shook him. Scowling, the Ascian looked towards the astrologian and finally deigned to listen to the words that were spilling from his lips. 

"-her! The crellbron have a heading!" He was shouting, and the words crashed through Hades with the same force as a tidal wave rocking a coastline. 

"What?"

"Zenos and Kel'louch found her!" Urianger dropped his hands to the arm of the couch, catching his breath for a half second before continuing. "The Burn! Make haste to the Burn!"

Emet-Selch reached out to snag the elezen by the front of his robes and curled his other hand through the air and hauled them both bodily through a rift.


	33. Chapter 33

Emet-Selch hovered above the aether-drained sand and stared out across the seemingly empty expanse. There was an Allagan facility sunk beneath the sands, three of them in fact, but the memory of such was of little help to him at that point. For all that the land was practically barren of aether, he was sending little and less of what he was looking for. Shifting his grip from the front of Urianger's robes and instead looping his arm around the elezen's waist to secure him properly, he closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath.

He let it out a moment later, lips curling into a displeased sneer. The astrologian hooked his arm over his shoulders to better anchor himself, and peered out at the sands before sighing. 

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. Less and little."

Urianger looked thoughtful for a moment, before slowly shaking his head. "Perchance, would utilizing the sympathetic link 'twixt the fragment of herself within the ring aid you in this?"

"I _tried_ that in Azys Lla. It gave me a fragmented signal, pointing me towards Garlemald. When I went to check, I realized it was directing me towards the crellbron fragment, which essentially means it was simply picking up the _closest_ large-ish piece of her, as opposed to the piece that should have the greatest resonant-" The Architect paused, before pulling the ring out of his essence. Studying it as it lay in the palm of his hand, he frowned. "... 'Tis highly unlikely... Did she recall how she hid herself as Eschaton? Such blends her essence into the aether around her."

"It would account for a fragmented signal." The elezen looked around, squinting against the glare of the sun. "Pray tell, would searching for thy descendant allow for more accuracy? Kel'louch claimed he joined them."

"'Tis the _second_ thing I tried when we got here. No, if she is hiding herself, she is likely hiding him as well. Before the Sundering, I would have been able to find her even hidden, utilizing a piece of her own essence such as what lingers within the ring, however the fact that there is minimum one other fragment wandering the world seems to be interfering with such." Folding the ring back into his aether, the Ascian heaved a sigh. "While there is next to no aether in the Burn, even the slightest amount seems enough to grant her cover."

"Methinks she intends to use herself as bait to lure out our foe. Which means our paramour will likely cease hiding once she is thusly certain she will have enough time to deal with him without our interference." 

"'Tis entirely likely that is her intention." The Ascian weighed his options, before drifting towards the ground. A series of gestures layered them both with a series of spells, before he studied Urianger. "Did Rafail's crystal teach you how we held our souls tight to ourselves and hid them?"

"It did. Thine intent is to counter ambush?"

Emet-Selch let a smirk cross his features, and shook his head. "Not quite. Our little Monster is very likely hidden from aetheric sight only. This means little, when it comes to technology and we just so _happen_ to be in the immediate vicinity of an Allagan facility."

* * *

"How are you not roasting in that armor?"

Zenos paused mid-stretch, before throwing his head back and laughing. Turning towards the Warrior, he dropped one hand to his sword revolver and nodded towards her even as he gestured to her own black leathers. "I could ask the same of you, Savage. Are scarves not better suited for Garlemald or Ishgard?"

"It was a gift. Besides, it's probably the most durable thing I've got on me, too, in the event that my clothes get shredded. I'm not the one wearing heavy metal armor that's got three layers and an extra butt cape though." Resting her hands on the hilts of her swords, the Warrior lifted one shoulder in a shrug before glancing over at where Fray was smoothing a cloth across his claymore. "I'd be worried about you, but I don't even know if you _can_ sweat."

"I don't think you gave me the ability to bleed either. Shoddy worksmanship." 

"Fuck you. I've made exactly _two_ primals, and you usually manifest yourself for a few seconds whenever you bloody well feel like it. I'm not used to being the one doing the manifesting." Huffing, Priscilla folded her arms and ducked her head. "Be happy I figured out the bird-splitting thing to even manifest you outward. Even then, it's an incomplete version. You can't go anywhere near as far as the bird could when I got in trouble."

"Well now, it seems you took the time to learn a few new tricks my friend. What is this bird-splitting you speak of?" The Garlean Emperor quirked a brow, before frowning as he looked out across the sands as a void rift opened. "I take it from our guest you are no longer keeping us hidden?"

"I stopped about half an hour ago, honestly. Not much to hide us in around here. As Eschaton, whenever I got into some serious trouble I'd sever a bit've myself and turn it into a bird, before sending it off to go and get help." Cracking her neck to one side, the Warrior rolled her shoulders and narrowed her eyes, ignoring the way Fray pushed himself up to stand beside her. Together they silently stared out at the tall, lanky Amaurotine figure that stepped out of the swirl of darkness and then gestured blandly to dismiss the rift. She could feel the way the aether around her twitched, an in depth search of her soul made to confirm she was who she was, before the white-masked face lifted slightly. 

"Well. This certainly explains why my grandfather and father were particularly tall." Zenos stepped forward and studied the figure, blue eyes bleeding to red on black even as a slow grin started to work it's way across his face. 

"Just... Let me talk to him first-" Priscilla staggered slightly under the swat Fray landed upside the back of her head, and she turned to sourly glare at the white eyes that matched her expression. "The fuck."

"What, I'm supposed to just _let_ you walk out and get teleported away? _'Scuse me_, I thought the plan was already set."

"First casualty-Did Zenos just run out there?" The Warrior straightened, twisting to stare at where the Garlean Emperor was already half-way across the expanse between them, sword drawn. Fray followed her line of sight before barking out a laugh. "Oh fuck. Save him!" 

"Stick to the plan, Pris. Stick to the plan." 

* * *

Hesitation. Zenos had already known such would be the Warrior's worst enemy. This was an individual that carried the soul of someone they loved, after all. 

_("There are a few things you **will** need to watch out for. For example, there are many methods with which I could simply snuff the life of an individual should I put enough intent behind my actions. Many of them, however, are bound by physical contact. Hence the staff.")_

At ten fulms, he shifted his stance and took his chosen sword in two hands, spinning and drawing upon the Art of the Swell. It ruffled the robes, but seemed to do little else. The Garlean Emperor was mildly disappointed with the visible lack of an effect, but otherwise simply slid aside to avoid... whatever it was that his Resonant was warning him of, really. It didn't matter, as long as it didn't connect, and he didn't need to know what the splayed out patch of orange was warning him of so long as he didn't stand in it. Sheathing the Swell, he drew the Storm and raked it across the barrier that flickered into existence. 

Interesting, he thought to himself. A barrier that time. Electricity, or the fact that the blade would have connected with where the Ascian's knee should have been? Hmm.

_("The next is that whatever you see, may not be what could be considered the 'true form'. I would hardly consider fighting in the form of a bird, however he may not have had time to re-weave the body into a different shape. The process, for such a drastic change, may take anywhere from two to thirty six hours dependent on whatever else he may need to do. If you can, find the true body and strike it. 'Tis otherwise by and large a waste to attack whatever shape you might cross paths with."_

_"And how will I know whether or not this form is indeed a shell being worn by a smaller creature?"_

_"You are my descendant, are you not? You inherited at least a portion of my powers and traits. **Use** them.")_

Zenos flicked his eyes up, even as he picked his way gracefully through the patches of _pain_ that painted themselves across the ground. The Ascian was a uniform plum-black, when viewed through the aether. An even distribution. A purple crystaline staff swing across, and the Garlean reflexively lifted his blade to block it before belatedly recalling that such was a bad idea. The impact sent him skidding, and he dropped the Storm as a chill chased all feeling from his arm and part of the way across his torso. Collecting himself, he detached the sword revolver that hung from his hip and drew his final sword left handed.

There had been a brief moment where he had seen a surge of aether flicker from the heart of the Ascian, down the arm and then through the staff before it connected. That would be where he would need to strike. Evening his breathing back out to compensate for the way one of his lungs didn't seem to want to work properly, he grinned and charged right back in. Weaving to the side to avoid the projected senses of 'danger' laced his path, he narrowed his eyes at the sound of a rapidly approaching suit of leather-coated chainmail and then grunted as feet found purchase on his back and vaulted Fray upwards towards the face of their foe. 

The claymore swung for the neck, and the Ascian jerked back to avoid it before snapping his fingers. A flash of light petrified Fray, and he impacted hard against the chest and then fell to the ground with a thump.

_("Oh yes. And if you feel your mortality slipping away from you, you have lingered too long in his proximity. That one takes a little bit to kick in, however 'tis nothing that a little distance or a nigh fatal blow will fix. What I would seek to avoid would be staring into his eyes. You could be turned to stone."_

_"Does it wear off?"_

_"-Please-. As if I would be so careless as to utilize something like that without it being **permanent**.")_

Stabbing the tip of the Ame-no-Habakiri into the ground, he focused and sent out a red-black surge that howled as it spread outwards. The Ascian took a single, ponderous step back before laughing, something about ants echoing in the air around him before the form abruptly popped like a burst bubble. The Warrior landed next to him, legs coiling to absorb the impact before she dragged the curve of one blade across the back of her forearm. Sweeping her blade to the side, her blood shimmered before growing dark and forming into another Fray. 

"Well shit. I think I missed. Wasted opportunity there." 

"Did that sodding dickwaffle kill me? He did, didn't he. Call me Haldrath because I'm about to tear out his _eyes_-!"

"Where did h-" The Warrior glanced down, before turning to drop both swords. Her forearms bulged before she muckled onto Zenos and bodily threw him out of range of the sphere that pulled itself into existence around her, trapping her and Fray both. Pushing himself up, he frowned as a rift started to flicker about it, and reached out with a hand even as he sought to claw into it with his will. 

A queer feeling of aether shifting along his own almost distracted him, before the slowly vanishing orb wobbled and stilled. It held for a heartbeat before a brutal tug on the aether of the prison almost had it slipping into the rift until the crack of a firearm pulled it and the swirling mass of void apart. Fray hit the ground face-first, and started pushing himself up even as the Warrior landed on her feet nearby. 

"That won't stop him for long." Emet-Selch idly flourished the gun as he ambled over to the dead shoebill on the ground, before he glanced back to where Urianger was jogging to catch up. 

"Look, I can do this on my -own-. I don't want him hurting you-"

"-Please-. He _is_ me, little Monster. I understand your intent and reasoning, but refuse to allow you to martyr yourself. What part of _ours_ did you neglect to understand?" Growling, the Architect ambled closer and gestured with his free hand towards the elezen that was already working to heal the damage Zenos had sustained. "Even if you must _ignore_ the emotional and psychological pain that I endure _every single time_ you do this and dredged up the trauma of _losing_ you, think of our third. 'Tis not just _me_ that you panic with this repetitive behaviour! You spoke of the value of a vessel, and agreed to cease _getting yourself killed!_ You _promised! _And what do we find but that at the first opponent that I _might_ have trouble dealing with, you decide to drop _everything_ and even seek to prevent us from following or finding you!" 

"I don't want him bloody well tearing you apart and trying to replace you!" Priscilla drew herself up to her full height, matching the frustrated yelling that came from Emet-Selch with her own bellow. The Emissary scoffed, putting his free hand on his hip and leaning down to invade her space even as she unflinchingly tipped her chin up and glared at him. 

"I will NOT be left behind again! Untenable! Unconscionable! How do you intend to _protect_ me then, if you are nowhere near me!"

The elezen sighed, pushing himself up and offering a hand to Zenos. The Garlean inspected it for a moment before accepting the help up, shaking out his right hand once he did and glancing towards the two shouting a few feet away. Fray had ambled away to collect the claymore, otherwise ignoring the fight. 

"I was going to CUT HIM OUT OF HIM and KILL THE REST!"

"You could no more kill HIM than you could kill ME! You had _NIGHTMARES_ about this!" Exasperated, Emet-Selch threw his hands into the air. 

Shaking his head, the astrologian stepped in and reached to lightly tap the Warrior's shoulder. She ignored him for a moment in favour of jabbing a finger at the Architect.

"He KILLED the Devourer! He tried to kill Laheebread! He tried to kill YOU! I'M the one he wants! WHAT DO YOU WANT, URIANG-gnnmph!"

"How long until he returns, Great-grandfather?" Zenos dug a toe under one of his swords before kicking it up into his grasp, ignoring the way the Warrior had been shut up by the elezen and fisted her hands into the front of the astrologian's robes.

"Perhaps an hour or two. Losing a vessel and the mass of aether that formed the larger construct would be but a mild blow. 'Tis something that can be recovered from, and we Unsundered are not like the lesser Ascians. His aether will draw together within the Void and then return to find a new vessel. Fortunately, I know how he _thinks_." The firearm vanished with a snap of his fingers before Emet-Selch scowled at Priscilla, Urianger smiling faintly and stepping aside. 

"_Look_, just go back to Az-" She glared at the Ascian as he leaned down to silence her the same way their lover had, and she glowered at him as he straightened and folded his arms. 

"_No._"


	34. Chapter 34

"You can't just keep kissing me to make me shut up!"

"Should not, not cannot, little Monster. Do you want to hear my idea or are you content to continue blathering away?"

"I _want_ you to-"

"If thy next words are 'to return to Azys Lla', then surely thou knows the futility of thine efforts." Urianger rubbed his temples, before glancing over to the current Garlean Emperor. "A thousand pardons, Zenos. Thine forebears are... Troublesome, when irked and mine attempts thus far to placate either of them hath failed. How is thine arm?"

"Great-grandfather does seem to have a tendency to screech, but I long since learned to tune it out after some time." The blond swordsman slowly flexed his right hand, staring at it and shaking his head. "Whatever you did allowed me to regain a semblance of feeling, and every passing moment restores my strength. Where are we going?"

"One of the Allagan facilities buried 'neath the sand. Emet-Selch did thus begin preparations for our counter attack, but 'pon noting the conflict did rush away to ensure our paramour's continued presence-" Urianger flinched glancing back before sighing as the five of them continued onward.

"I HATE YOU!"

Emet-Selch paused mid-step, eyeing her before tittering and relaxing. "No you _don't_. Don't _lie_ to me, little Monster. You hate the fact that I refuse to allow you to wander off like a lost kitten and get yourself _run over_."

"FINE! I hate that you're being OBSTINATE and OBTUSE!"

"Obtuse? -Please-, you essentially grew up as a _pirate_, surely you can do better than _that_-"

"Any bets on how long it takes for her to throw her hands in the air and try and storm off in another direction?" Fray idly brushed some sand from his forearm, glancing between the astrologian and swordsman as he passed between them.

"She won't. Great-grandfather is here, and all he would have to do is apply a choice use of tactically planned phrases or words and she would immediately turn around and continue arguing with him. He knows it, too." Zenos waved his hand idly, and took a moment to study their surroundings once more. "I believe she is by and large simply venting her frustrations at this point, regardless. The initial panic at your appearance has worn off and seems to have given way to sullen disgruntlement, and any Beast would snap and snarl under such conditions. Ahh, but she will fight all the fiercer for it..."

"I JUST FUCKING WANT YOU TO LIVE IS THAT SO BAD!?"

"_Bold_ of you to presume I would survive losing you again."

The Warrior threw her arms in the air, yelling inarticulately before finally slumping in defeat. They continued on in relative silence until the Architect moved ahead of the group and settled in front of a stone ridge.

"We have arrived." Emet-Selch passed a hand along a featureless, flat portion of the ridge, only for it to flicker and vanish. Stepping aside, he gestured for the rest of them to enter the resulting hole through which a faint flicker of green strip lighting could be seen marking the outline of a floor. "Augurelt knows the way from here, I believe. I need to repair a few more sections, and then I will rejoin the group. In the meantime, Urianger?"

The elezen nodded, holding up one hand. Motes of light flickered into being, orbiting above the group like so many tiny stars, and he started to lead them further in. The Warrior pointed at the Architect, jabbing a finger up into his face as she passed him. 

"This _isn't over_."

"I should certainly hope not. Your insulting vocabulary is _lacking_, and I look forward to whatever you manage to come up with in the bell or so we are apart." Cheekily, the Ascian kissed the tip of her finger before smirking at the scowl that had settled across her face. Once she reached the lit part of the floor, the rock wall flickered and re-established itself.

* * *

Emet-Selch remembered these ruins. He helped to design them, after all. As such, any of the drones that crossed his path ignored him, and he was free to continue on his way. For all they had weathered, he was pleasantly surprised at how most of the equipment had survived only slightly worse for wear. It was simple enough to reprogram the few drones he needed to before moving on, setting them to repair the structure and exit out to the wasteland and start unburying the solar panels. For what he intended, he was going to need all the power he could get.

It wasn't a cloning facility. No, it was essentially a quarry, a mining camp for a particularly specific type of material, but that wasn't to say that it lacked a medical wing. Accidents _did_ happen, after all, and it was standard procedure to ensure that the overseers would have the proper equipment on hand to deal with everything from a splinter to the accidental loss of a limb and beyond. There was one singular tank that simply needed the preservative, life-sustaining fluids within it refreshed or transmuted into what he needed, and he set about tracing the paths that the power he intended to redirect to that very chamber would need to take. 

It was a good plan, if he did say so himself. Something he would never have thought of, really, but the Warrior had inadvertently given him _ideas_. He smiled to himself, and took a moment to step through a rift into the Garlemald R&D department. He came back with a canister, which he got to work integrating with the tank. From there, he focused on adjusting the entire thing until it suited his purpose. 

Half a bell later, Urianger led the rest into the medical bay and smiled at the progress the Architect seemed to have made. 

"You certainly took your time. I had half a mind to go and fetch you under the assumption you might have gotten _lost_. I presume you explained the general outline of the plan?" 

"Thy presumption is correct." 

"And? What do you think?" Sliding out from under the tank, the Ascian sat up and brushed part of his coat off before quirking a brow at the still sullen Warrior. 

"I think it's either _insane_ or _brilliant_, and I can't quite make up my mind which." 

"Certainly better than _your_ plan?" Emet-Selch let a teasing lilt colour his words, and she snorted before looking away and folding her arms. 

"... Fine. _Maybe_. I suppose we'll find out, won't we."

"Your idea has merit, but how do you plan to draw him here? I know you, Great-grandfather, and you are not prone to swift action when you are tired." Zenos slowly walked closer, peering up at the faintly glowing tank, and then glancing to take in the addition on the side. "Will this work quickly enough?"

"'Tis where Urianger comes in. Healing will offset the explosive surge of growth. Regarding how we intend to draw him here, such is where you come in. I will guide you out, you simply need to return." Pushing himself up, the Ascian started to replace the paneling to both hide and protect the piping beneath the tank. "Thankfully, I was able to find one the test subjects and something of your great-grandmothers."

"Wait, something've mine?" The Warrior blinked, perking up and then frowning at the locket that the Architect slowly pulled from a pocket. "Wait, is that..."

"Yes. The only alteration we have yet to make is a method to ensure it _cannot_ be removed. The tricky part will be putting it around the neck of the result. I _did_ say that if I had no method to beat him, I would make one, did I not?" Quirking a brow, Emet-Selch let his lips curl slightly into a smile before he moved over to hand it to Urianger. "Be a dear and do as we discussed. I needs must take my Great-grandson to that in-between place so that he might agitate this alternate Architect and incite him into following. Something I believe is _well_ within your abilities, is it not?"

Zenos grinned wolfishly in response.

* * *

He had just gotten himself back together when something _bit_ him. Amorphous mass of aether as he was, it should have been impossible but as he swirled and gathered himself it happened again. A small cloud of red on black tore into him with all the ferocity of a puppy gnawing on the tail of their elder. It would have been hilarious, considering the difference in the sheer mass between them if not for the fact that this pup, this _whelp_, somehow had particularly sharp teeth. 

He swatted at it, idly, and then did so again when it seemed to only incite the clearly insane mass of gleeful _more!fightmeyoucoward!_ that harassed him. A third swat disoriented the gnat for a moment, before it gathered itself and sank it's all into finding a tender spot of his aether and _rending._

He turned to bring his full attention to bear, prepared to return the proverbial favour before it rapidly retreated. He followed, billowing through the void and down onto the Source. There, it had fled into that body. He remembered it, the blond hair and powerful build, and immediately poured himself into the body it inhabited. Forcefully kicking the annoying insect out, he opened his eyes to revel in it's dissipation only to pause as something caught around his neck. 

Three figures stared at him. A fourth, the blond swordsman, shook his head slowly and looked over with a grin, red on black eyes narrowed victoriously. 

"Did it work?"

He would have known that voice _anywhere_, and turned to stare at the Warrior as she cautiously paced around him. She came to rest between <strike>_Hythlodaeus_</strike> the elezen and the native version of himself, only relaxing with both of them shifted to seek physical contact with her. 

"It did. Well done, Augurelt. You improved on the amulet quite nicely, I believe."

He blinked, before lifting a hand to feel at the reinforced choker, fingers catching a familiar pattern across part of it and immediately attempted to bring his aether to bear, trying to tear it asunder-

Nothing happened. It refused to respond. The young Garlean body he had inhabited lacked the inherant ability to utilize aether and it was compounded on by how the necklace suppressed his Echo, preventing him from working around the handicap. Looking down in wide-eyed surprise, he reached up and tugged on it, trying to pull it free. When that failed, he felt around to try and find the clasp, only to realize there didn't seem to be one. 

"Twelve, that's a relief. Well done Kid." The Warrior twisted to grin at the blond swordsman as he pushed himself to his feet. "Lookit that, you've done something I can't. I'll have to find a way to one up you somehow."

"I wish you the best of luck, my friend. Though the hunt was short indeed, it was a refreshing change of pace."

"That it was." Steel-wrapped blue eyes turned back to him, studying him before the Warrior frowned. "Now what?"

"Little Monster, are you truly so out of practice? What do you generally do with wayward Garleans you have captured?" Hades smirked, before leaning down to press a kiss against her cheek. "You pump them for information and then leave them tied up in their own clothes. While I doubt we can allow the latter, the former seems an apt choice of actions."

She nodded, and sighed. 

"Yeah, alright, fair point."


	35. Chapter 35

"So."

The Warrior stared at the teenager that Zenos had baited the future version of his great-grandfather into. Sandy haired, eyes that, as she watched, went from green to molten gold as the Garlean body studied her in turn. She had asked the others to leave, and for all that her Hades had given her a warning _look_ Priscilla had held his gaze and insisted by tipping her head towards the door. Just to be difficult, her Emet-Selch had simply disappeared into a rift as Urianger helped the current Garelan Emperor up and out through the door and Fray had dissipated. 

"I need answers."

The Ascian that had traveled back for her let the corners of his mouth pull down into a severe frown, and reached up to feel along the choker around his neck once more. "What you _need_, Hero, is to take this off of me and come with me."

"You're not bleeding from the eyes, so you must believe what you're saying." The Warrior narrowed her eyes in thought, pacing over to an abandoned table and perching on the edge of it. "Need's fairly specific, why do I _need_ to do either of these things?"

"Because if you do not, then you are doomed to die once more. Permanently. My Lord-"

Priscilla clapped her hands over her ears, giving the Ascian an utterly bored look that had him scowling. "I don't want to hear about how great Zodiark is. Twelve above, I got enough of that with _my_ Emet-Selch before I free'd him."

"I know perfectly well you can read lips, Hero."

"You're right." She admitted the fact with a nod and dropped her hands. "Which is why the best option is just to _gag_ you with something. Ten words or less, Future-boy. Try and make it _important_."

"Sunder me, and Zodiark awakens. Leave me, and I win."

The Warrior squinted at him, mentally counting the words before heaving a sigh. "Alright, alright, you've got my attention. I take it that's what you were waiting on, wasn't it. Why you watched us for so long without acting. But why not just take my Emet-Selch out of the equation and try and replace him? Why watch me save him, grow close, free him and then strike now? What did you do, that me leaving you alone while you're powerless and locked down, would let you win?"

"I wanted to see if you could. As for my plans..." The former Garlean Emperor's lips curled into a smirk as he tilted his head and studied her. "Now, why exactly should I tell you such? You have a tendency to _meddle_, Hero, and I have laboured long to ensure my victory with or without my conscious assistance. While divulging them would give you only the _barest_ of chances in regards to foiling them, I have seen you succeed against worse odds."

"I really have. But I'll tell you something right now, _<<Hades>>_." Priscilla smiled slightly, watching the way he minutely straightened as his name hummed through the aether around them. "I might not like him much, but you just about killed Lahabrea. You tried to hurt Zenos, my family. You tried to kill the people working with me, that you must know I think of as _extended_ family. If you've really watched me for as long as you have, if you really loved the person my soul once was and knew them as well as you think you did, then you know that even without your help I'll turn this Star inside out to hunt down whatever it is that you've set into motion and squish it. I sundered this world once to save it from Zodiark. What makes you think I won't do it again?"

"You don't know how. I have measured your ability, and it falls short of the mark." He smirked, before the expression slowly drained away as she raised a hand and placed it against her chest. A flash of light briefly brightened the room, before a second Warrior stood next to the one still seated on the table. Both of them spent a moment studying each other before slowly turning to stare at him. 

"Yeah, 'bout that."

"I -we, I guess?- figured that out already."

"Didn't figure out how to put ourselfs back together, but-"

"-we didn't need to. We _remembered_ that. Worked backwards to figure out this, in fact."

"We might not have the raw power needed to Sunder the world on our own, but we've got everyone one we might need to back us for it. So tell us." One of them stepped closer, leaning down to invade the Ascian's space. She was taller than him, considering his body had only matured to that of a teenager before deemed good enough to serve as a vessel for his soul. The other folded her arms as she swung her legs and smiled a humourless smile.

"What fuckery do you have in store?"

* * *

Emet-Selch paced back and forth in the hallway. Zenos had closed his eyes and settled into that partially unconscious, resting state that let him remain aware of his surroundings while Urianger had sat down next to him and started shuffling his cards. Ten minutes into their wait, and the blood had drained from the Architect's face as he came to an abrupt halt and stared at the door. It was only several long heartbeats later, when it opened, that he slowly relaxed. 

The Warrior stepped out, and closed it behind her with a sigh only to try and lean back against it and fail. She was instead pulled away from it by white gloved hands and turned this way and that, studied intently by the Ascian as his frown deepened. Mildly, the rogue waved him off and chuckled. 

"Hey, I'm not hurt, it was only a conversation."

"You _Sundered_. Capital 'ess'. I didn't even know you were strong enough to. How... How did you put yourself back together?"

"Okay, so, you it's not the way you probably think it is. It's a, uhh..." Priscilla blinked for a moment, trying to remember the words. "Realignment? It's like drawing two parts of an image on two pieces of thin paper in the same book, then holding those pieces up to look at them with a light behind them so they look right? But they're part of the same book, see? so when you close the book, it goes back to being the one 'me'."

"It's-" Hades stared, mouth slightly open as his brows furrowed, processing the concept. Blinking rapidly, he turned and paced a few steps away, both hands coming up to clutch at the sides of his head as a realization struck him. "You- It-"

"I think I broke him. You alright?" Ambling over after the idle comment to the now sighing Urianger, the Warrior reached up to gently tap the Architect on the shoulder. He slowly turned in response, eyes wide. "Hey, Lovely?"

"That-" Both of his hands came out to grasp at her shoulders, and Emet-Selch gripped her as if without her presence, he felt as if he was going to topple. Wheezing quietly for a moment, the Ascian leaned to rest his forehead against hers, still looking more through her than at her. "It's so _simple_, how...? Is... Such is the _answer_, little Monster, to returning the Shards to the Source. How could I not see it before?"

"Probably because I never told you. I dunno how the math might work out, but you're smarter than me for that. Remember how I said I'd need your power, like a battery? I've been playing with the idea, but... I dunno what it'd cost, to shuffle a whole world like that. You going to be okay?" She studied his expression for a long moment as he breathlessly laughed and nodded, composing himself as he stepped away. 

"I was unaware you _could_ undo your own Sundering."

"What did you think the birds were? Just 'cause they weren't even splits doesn't mean I didn't shave'em off. Had to put them back on sooner or later or else you'd've noticed bits of me were missing after enough time. Still, more on that later, we've got a number of really _big_ problems." Waving a hand, she turned towards the Elezen and Garlean sitting on the floor. Emet-Selch paced around her and folded his arms as she sighed. "I can't cut him out've the tempering. I mean, I could, but he's done something that'll make that tempering go right to the moon and wake up Zodiark. I dunno what he did, but maybe you could take a look at it?"

"Hythlodaeus had sharper vision than my own, and Urianger has inherited it. Provided he has the opportunity to practice such, I believe within the next couple of days he may surpass my sensitivity." A gloved hand was waved to the astrologian, who smiled faintly at the praise and pushed himself up.

"Thou art too affluent with thy praise. Still, if thine opinion holds even a modicum of truth, I shalt see it done. Verily, perchance thus shalt give me the opportunity to disable his safeguards and allow you to sever his tempering." 

"-Please-, 'a modicum of truth'. Tch. Of _course_ it does. You don't see me bleeding from the eyes, now do you." Huffing, the Ascian refolded his arms and shook his head. "Now then, why do I feel as though such isn't the worst of the information that you recovered?"

"Because it's not. Apparently, in the future, Zenos became a Zodiark vessel which rendered the body in the moon moot." The Warrior grimaced as the blond swordsman quirked a brow and opened his eyes. "Yeah, you. Apparently when you started practicing teleporting around, you ended up getting drawn to the moon. You tried to take over Zodiark the way you did with the dragon primal, and instead got eaten. Oh, you were still _there_, you're too tough to have gotten completely swallowed, but core bits of you had gotten replaced. You were warped like the Lightwarden Titania was."

"An eikon, I presume?"

"Faerie king, actually. Like the orange lady I sent to you to ask about dreaming a conversation with me. Remind me to get someone to fill you in on that. But. _But_. It gets worse." Priscilla raked a hand back through her hair, grimacing before she continued. "Even if we don't do anything, he's gone and done something to the tempered. He fought me on it by constantly trying to redirect his thoughts to other things so that my Echo picked those up instead, but I caught the edges of it. Basically, while the tempering from Zodiark is bits of him, they're small bits. Think of it like a person holding one end of a straw with a kink in it to prevent more of the party punch through." 

"He's gone and made something to unkink that hose, to use their waking minds to rouse the sleeping bits of Zodiark that'll get siphoned into them until they're basically replaced. I didn't see where, but it's already in use on the tempered. It's why we've encountered minimal voidsent and apparently the last order he relayed that Thancred waylaid was an order to go and report to one of them. I say one've them because there's more than one."

"Dangerous. He could very well ruin the tempered by overloading them. 'Tis a liability, the fragility of the Fragmented. I can see how, should enough survive the process, such might pull the main mass above the Source out of the stupor the Sundering induced. Simply inverting the flow of such aether would be unwise as well, and 'tis too widespread to effectively stifle each access point when we know not where they are." The Architect frowned faintly, turning the matter over in his mind. "I presume, knowing the opposing forces as he does, that he accounted for the instability such is liable to cause and tweaked his methods to allow the best possible chances. By my estimation, with the information we have and assumptions I feel willing to accord to him, that he currently sits at a little under a seventy percent chance of success at waking the eldest primal."

"We need to lower those odds. Drastically. He regularly mutilated his own memories about them to the point where I could only pick up bits and pieces. I don't think even he knows where most of them are."

"Always so personally direct." Zenos slowly pushed himself up, grinning. "Great-grandmother, if he knows not, then follow the next link of the chain. Each location will have at least one or two individuals that know of them."

"I dunno if we've got time to go on a long, involved hunt like that. I can't keep whacking my way through the tempered on the fifty to one odds that I'll punch one that knows about where we need to go in the face and get an Echo flash." The Warrior narrowed her eyes as the Garlean Emperor chuckled. 

"The world moves as you command, Beast. Howl, and let loose your hounds. Garlemald will answer, and I guarantee you that few other current civilizations are as uniquely suited to countering aether as ours."

"The boy has a point. Even the others, if properly equipped and guided, would be able to assist." Emet-Selch smirked. "I hear airships work _wonderfully_ when it comes to moving vast numbers of people over vast distances, and we have enough Ascians to open rifts and send the smaller, faster scouting craft through." 

"But what about-"

"Post the fall of Dalamud, many and more became blessed with the Echo. 'Tis a simple enough matter to devise teams seeded with such individuals." Urianger reached out to lay a hand gently against Priscilla's shoulder, smiling softly. "Thou art not alone, Paramour."

"Stop trying to _do_ everything alone, little Monster. Look. I've already gotten _greys_ from having to deal with this behaviour from you, let alone poor Augurelt. Look at him. Grey hair everywhere. And I do mean _everywhere_."

Urianger pinked to the tips of his ears, and the Warrior slapped a hand across her mouth as she snorted, glancing to where Zenos was pretending to admire the architecture to give the flustered elezen some dignity. 


	36. Chapter 36

Emet-Selch took the future version of himself to the one place he figured he couldn't actually escape from. With no techology to manipulate and sentience woven into the very roots of the plants nearby, Gridania was hands down the best bet, and the moogles that acted as a secondary guard were just an added benefit. He _hated_ moogles, which meant that the version of him from the future _also_ hated them, and the dead-eyed look of resignation that he was given as the trapped and largely harmless Ascian was marched into a thorn bush woven into a spherical prison was one he would treasure forever.

Zenos had returned to Garlemald to begin mobilization, and was expected to finish within two bells. Everyone else had to be visited and spoken to, which the Warrior admitted she should probably do. Thus, it was between moments where he teleported from Gridania to Ul'dah, from Ul'dah to Lominsa, then to Ishgard and then, finally, to Doma that he found his thoughts turning back to the _key_ he had rather suddenly been gifted. 

The Sundering could be undone. 

There was always a way that things were _meant_ to go, but it was a long-standing agreement that once something was severed, it was incredibly difficult to reattach. Fingers, for example, needed to be lined up properly and healed nigh constantly while the body's natural healing factor mended flesh, muscle, sinew, bone and nerves. Some things took longer than others, and without careful monitoring such things were more likely to turn gangrenous and simply refuse to heal properly. This was why, of all the attempts they had made to rejoin the shards to the Source, many of their methods had failed. Nigh countless efforts, gone to waste with only a simple 'such will not work' to show for it.

Oh, how he _wished_ he could have had more information about the simplistic run down the Warrior had given him about how she fixed it. When he had felt her sunder, he had been briefly both flabbergasted and shocked. The last time he had felt a pulse of aether like that, it had essentially destroyed everything. And then the two pieces had overlapped, like two utterly identical layers of an image lined up so that even every single hair was in exactly the same place in both, and one Priscilla had exited the room. 

He had barely believed it, physically checked her over for flaws, and then mentally stuttered to a stop once she explained it as best she could. Already, he was working on the problem. It would be _impossible_ to line up every grain of sand or drop of water between the Source and the Shards, but a larger, looser system might be serviceable if one used beacons. The Star was practically littered with Aetherites, which in and of themselves weren't difficult to make. 

Between meetings with faction leaders, he snuck a question here and there, and bent his considerable focus to the answers she tried to give him. No, it didn't have to be perfectly lined up, but you might get abnormalities along the seams if they weren't. Which, depending on what it was that was in one place or another, might not be too bad. If two spots had a river, and the difference was that one was deeper by a fulm, it wouldn't actually matter. Someone's house on the other hand might get replaced with the river or vice versa, however, if the landscapes were too drastically different. 

They already planned to relocate the people if possible. He was essentially immortal. If some people decided to stay, he could either _make_ them move or simply wait until they died of old age. That meant that his goal of the Ardor was doable within the next generation or two at _worst_. He could practically _taste_ the end of his suffering. And then... 

Then...

Then he could _sleep_. He was already idly making plans for what might come _after_. He really should sleep for _years_, but a week at a time as he enjoyed what he could easily call _retirement_ with both of the loves of his life. The tricky part would be implementing just _how_ she triggered everything to pull back together after it was all aligned. There hadn't been much of a pulse of aether, and he had been distracted by the stifling memories of staring at a dead, blue banded white bird on his chest when she had left their prisoner to relay what she had learned to them. He would have to ask her to repeat the action once they had a moment. She would indulge him. She _understood_, after all.

It hinged on the amount of aether the action would require. How much had Hydaelyn used in the initial Sundering? Destruction always took less than rebuilding. He hadn't thought to check, hadn't been able to with the Mothercrystal's retreat into the sea of Aether that She now floated upon. Which, really, made him tangent onto the advanced math required to determine just what the equivalent Her aether must have been in Amaurotine citizens. She had been weaker, but not by enough to allow Zodiark to simply smite Her into oblivion. Born of the singular moment three pieces of the same soul had burned themselves for fuel, utilized aetheric accelerators and withered the Wildlands (yet somehow, oddly, failed to actually kill anything) She had possessed the strength to survive blows long enough to sink Her claws into Her foe and drain His aether and heal Her own.

Persephone had always been incredibly strong. As Eschaton, that strength had grown exponentially. Each Convocation member's restriction and drawback was directly tied to the strength of the abilities they gained from their title, and though he had never pressed her about it, subtle hints dropped by those that worked with her had clued him into the fact that her Consequence was 'Lethe'.That realization had made him grapple with the chances that she might forget him, and what his answer had come down to was to simply _be_ there so that her Living Memory could skim from him whatever information she needed. 

Hydaelyn had been crafty. The _one_ fragment of the Eschaton they had managed to recover to recreate as Altima had carried the brunt of the Consequence and little more. The Mothercrystal had clearly prepared well in advance for the inevitability, and had played Her cards incredibly well, so to speak. He had to give Her that, and idly hoped that the crellbron were successful in keeping Her stable and healthy.

A gentle press of lips against his own drew him out of his thoughts, and he hummed quietly as he opened his eyes to blink at the tiredly grinning Warrior. She stepped back, and clasped her hands behind her back. 

"Hey, I'm all done here. Let's head back to Gridania to see how Urianger's doing on his end, yeah?"

Pulled from his tangenting thoughts, Hades smirked and offered her one of his hands, the other tucking behind his back as he dipped into a dramatic bow that Amon would have been proud of. 

"Of course, little Monster."

* * *

Zenos was, for once, _impressed_ with the Garlean military. Gaius (unofficially back in charge of it), Cid and Nero (both of which were also unofficially listened to) had been instrumental in getting everything up and off the ground just shy of a bell after the Emperor gave the order. He had expected to take the fastest skiff he could back to Azys lla, attune to the Aetherite and teleport back with a few of the Ascians and then have to stand around _smiling_ at people to motivate them to work faster. The memory of his indiscriminate killing of people who didn't perform as expected was _fresh_, for all that he hadn't done so since his return after the final Black Rose incident. 

Instead, what happened was he took the fastest skiff to Azys Lla, attuned to the Aetherite, walked into the room he could sense the gathered Ascians within and opened his mouth to see a few of them already turning to open a rift. Urianger had done his job well before departing for Gridania, but at that point he hadn't thought much of it. The elezen was one of the Savages toys, which meant it was only expected that he would perform well. Stepping out onto a roof in Garlemald however had revealed a sky darkened with airships, floating in perfect formation with the last few drifting up to their proper places before nothing but the rumble-hum of idling engines filled the air. 

He could feel the sound in his bones, and when he had found Gaius he openly praised him and the two other traitors with him for their timely completion of the tasks he had set for them. 

"Didn't do it for you, Galvus. I did it for the Warrior, and for the world." Cid folded his arms, keeping a distance and likely feeling secure in the knowledge that Priscilla would get _upset_ if the Garlean Emperor killed him. The thought put a smile on the blond swordsman's face, and he briefly entertained the idea of eviscerating the engineer before simply turning to look up at the fleet. 

"Regardless of why, you did so with all due haste. Such a thing is to be commended. Now then. Six ships per Ascian. One Ascian per Shard. We are the van, and I expect that you have relayed the order for detailed maps to be drawn up for every virgin territory we traverse. I will take the flagship."

"My Lord, you are not going to conquer lands." Gaius folded his arms, torn between proper honourifics and the fact that it was_ Zenos_ he was talking to. Training won out, and had the former Legatus inclining his head in a semblance of a respectful gesture. 

"Van Baelsar, do not think me so overcome with the joy of _action_ that I have forgotten our purpose. We go to find these Tempered Ascians and detain them, nothing more. No plundering, no raiding, no occupation, Great-Grandmother was quite clear with her intent. Our method of transportation across the void will arrive shortly, they simply went to the Rising Stones to collect those that possess the Echo. 'Tis expected that such will not take long at all. Regardless of our intention in these new lands, we will need to understand the terrain. If our prey goes to ground, maps will doubtless prove useful in determining where to unearth them." The blond swordsman rested one hand on the clip that kept his sword revolver attached to his hip, and let a smile play across his face. 

A quiet hum in the air went almost unnoticed over the sound of the airships, before a rift opened and one white robed Ascian stepped out with four black robed Ascians spreading out to either side of him. Bowing politely, Elidibus cleared his throat to get the attention of those gathered before straightening, gesturing behind the Ascians to indicate the dozen armed and wary people behind him. Zenos let his eyes flick over them before he dismissed them as _uninteresting, _if useful tools.

"We have arrived. It appears everything is in order. Let us begin."

* * *

Emet-Selch slowly approached the round thorn-laden prison, folding his arms as he noted their captive was still present. He had _worried_ that the locket wouldn't hold, but Urianger really _had_ done well with his alterations. Now that he had a moment, he studied the roiling, unsettled mass of sullen aether they had captured. 

It was... Horrible, really, if he was being honest with himself. The dull, muted colouration was almost as painful to look at as the Warrior's had been when she had been stuffed full of light aether. Still, he made himself look. This was what had awaited him. This was what his future had held. Hairline fractures that were only visible because he knew where to look, knew their pain intimately, and knew that his own had healed. For the soul in front of him, they had _spread_, spider webbed through the plum-black mass that was nearly devoid of the motes of gold that glimmered brightly within his own. 

Mutilated memories indeed. He could hazard an educated guess as to how it had been done, too. Enough pain, enough trauma could cause that kind of damage. Easy enough to compound upon the damage already done to his aether by the way the Tempering had spread from the core of him to everything else. With aether tipped so far to one side of the balance, it was clear to see that he was essentially mere steps away from becoming the void equivalent of a lightwarden. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn that their captive had lost more than he had gained in that exchange. 

Hades was privately _glad_ he had lost. Living, healing and having _her_ at his side was infinitely better than dying or worse, _winning_ it seemed. Urianger glanced at him as he came to a stop nearby, before looking back at his instruments. He was comparing his results, the Architect idly noted, before promptly re-focusing on the captured Ascian. 

A twitch. His study had not gone unnoticed. Irritated gold eyes opened and met his own, and he let a frown pull the corners of his mouth down. 

"Did she tell you, we figured it out. The Ardor. Nobody has to die, now, to fix everything."

Their captive simply stared. 

"What was it like, _winning__?_ Was it what you hoped?" Quirking a brow, the Ascian stared at his future self and spread his hands. "-Please-, don't look at me like that. Are we so dissimilar, that a few apparent decades would cause you to be so _against_ the idea of telling me?"

Still nothing. Less, in fact, because the gold eyes that stared at him closed as their captive simply folded his arms behind his head and remained stretched out in the small patch of grass within his prison. 

"Or is it that 'tis so horrible, so much different from what we hoped it would be, that for all that His influence bids you to praise it, you simply cannot."

"You're only talking to me in an attempt to dredge out some slip of truth that might be useful to you, Blasphemer. Spare the effort. I _am_ trying to nap, after all."

"Hmm, I don't recall pledging to conquer the world for an ever-hungering chunk of malformed crystal. I recall participating in the summoning to _save_ it. I distinctly remember the second empowerment, designed to restore life to what was otherwise a ruined, poisonous ball of despair."

"Mind your words, Blasphemer. He is my _god_." Nettled, the captive snapped open his eyes to glare at where the native Emet-Selch was settling into a crouch and propping an elbow on his knee so that he could rest his chin atop one fist. 

"He was my god too. 'Tis been barely a year since I was set free of his influence. You and I both know that I could not forget what it felt like to be tempered if I _tried_." Heaving a sigh, Hades blandly waved his free hand as if to sweep it away. "I want to know if it was _worth_ it, to you. She told me, you know. How you came to be here. What happened. What it was like, for you, how the colour and feeling had all been sucked out of everything save for those few moments where you worked on your chosen task. She doesn't _want_ to fight you, but does because she believes that she must." 

"Believes being the key word. If she surrenders, I will guarantee her longevity. If she continues, she will _fail_." 

"You believe so with such _certainty_." The Architect hummed out an amused sound. "If He demanded her destruction the first time and you were powerless to stop Him, what makes you think you will be able to do so this time?"

"I will have the merit of single-handedly ensuring his return to awareness-"

"Do you honestly, _truly_ believe that will be enough?" An eyebrow was quirked, and the captive glowered in response. "Oh, you poor, deluded _fool_. A thousand thousand deaths and the recollection of each one will not be enough to sate his anger. He tore her to pieces to torture separately, ensuring each pieces awareness through it all, did he not? He did not even reserve such hatred for Hydaelyn, simply slaying the one that actively Sundered him. No, he reserved such cruelty for the singular individual that brought about everything in the first place and continued to stand against him, sometimes with others, often alone, throughout the ages."

"He _will_ give her to me."

"He is a _god_." The free Ascian scoffed, before pushing himself up and brushing off parts of his coat as he continued. "There are none above Him in His eyes. He will kill her. He will ensure 'tis a slow, arduous proccess, where the only way out will be the easy way, where she simply accepts death. She won't, you know. She never _was_ the type to give up. She will fight Him until her soul fractures and crumbles, and even then every remaining ounce of her will endeavor to stick in His craw and give Him indigestion. You _know_ her, as I know her. The only way she lives, the only way _she_ is safe, is if Zodiark never awakens."

Their captive was silent, expression fixed in a scowl as he turned his eyes to the few clouds that were visible through the branches and leaves above him. Emet-Selch let him think on it for a moment, before stepping closer and leaning against the brambles with a sigh. 

"Tell me I'm wrong. _Please_. If I don't have to choose between the two of them, if He will be benevolent and allow her freedom and longevity, then I would drop everything and apply the working theory regarding how to reunite the shards with the source to the moons He is imprisoned within. He was my god, and such surety of unshakable faith has been one of the very few things that has kept us going through the countless eons."

"...It was hell."

The words were quiet, breathed out on the quietest sigh that he had ever heard, and Hades felt both joy and despair at them before he leaned to rest the side of his head against a safe piece of the thorned cage. 

"Then please. _Please_, for the love of all that I have_ left_ in this world, tell me how to stop what you have done and _save_ her."

"You can't. _I_ can't. It was designed so that, should she sever my Tempering, I could not. It began a fortnight ago, and will complete within the next lunar cycle at most. He is coming, regardless of whatever preventative actions you or she might take."

The Architect closed his eyes and fought hard to suppress the hysteric laughter that bubbled up the back of his throat like so much bile.


	37. Chapter 37

_"I have an idea."_

_"As did I."_

_"It will require a great deal of trust, and I request payment in advance." _

_"Tch. We may very well be considering the same possibility. Your freedom is the first step, I take it?"_

_"'Tis so. But I swear to you, on my name, my title and my heart, with all the fervor that I said 'no' to Him for **his** sake, that it will give her the chance she requires."  
_

_"It is, then. I will handle Hydaelyn's part in it, and arrange for **her** to visit you alone. Come here. I want her locket back."_

_"I cannot begrudge you this. I carry one within my aether." _

_"So many little trinkets, gained over the years..."_

_"Some days, they weigh heavily. But I digress."_

* * *

"It's three in the morning. My Emet-Selch told me that you had something important for me? Finally decided to help?" The Warrior stretched idly as she stifled a yawn, blinking at the captive Ascian. Something tickled at her instincts, but the guards were all present.

Urianger's effects were set neatly off to the side and the elezen himself was tucked away in bed with their lover. The moogles had been shoed away earlier that day, and she almost missed them. Almost. Their captive slowly turned to face her, arms folded behind his back. 

"Prompt. I expected to have more time, to be left until the sun rose."

"He said it was important." She shrugged, lifting a hand to scrub at her mask and face before raking her fingers back through her hair. "I trust him, and considering he woke me up for it that means it's _really_ important. I don't wake up nice-like unless I've slept long enough. So what's up?"

"Come here. I want to give you something." Stepping to the edge of his cage and carefully minding the thorns, he reached to curl his fingers around two pieces of thorned root. He was patient, saying nothing further when she simply stared at him with narrowed eyes until she finally glanced at the guards and shrugged once more. She leaned against one of the thorned roots before tensing as both of his hands shot out and snagged her by the coat. 

He shouldn't have been that strong, she noted. His body was a _teenager_. Something definitely was wrong, and as she brought both hands up to try and break his grip found herself dragged flush against the cage. The stabbing pain she expected from being impaled on one of the thorns never came, instead she stared and blinked as he gently, tenderly pressed his lips against hers and groaned so softly that it was almost a whimper. She felt his aether delicately trace against her own, and jerked backwards as best she could, a noise of surprise escaping her.

And then he was gone, vanishing in a swirl of aether as a rift overtook him to leave her staggering back and snapping a hand up to her mouth in alarm.

* * *

"_Someone_ in this room want to explain to me why the guards were illusions? How _someone_ had the ability to use aether? Why the hell he _escaped? _Or for that matter, what the _seven hells_ just happened?"

The Architect very calmly, very carefully set down his drink before lifting one hand and snapping his fingers. A faint ripple distorted the air around the bed, muffling the sounds in the room for the sleeping elezen so that he might continue to rest before the Ascian turned in his seat and clasped his hands together. He thought about his response, had been thinking about what he might say to answer those questions the moment he had sent her out, and tilted his head as he studied her. 

"You presume it was my doing. As tempting as it may be to twist words and shuffle the blame away, you deserve more than that. To play out this conversation, I would say it was my doing, and you would demand _why_." He watched the way she folded her arms, practically tasting the irritation and growing frustration in the aether around her. Clearing his throat, he settled his hands on his knees and picked his words carefully. "I told you, that if I could not find a solution, I would make one. Zodiark will awaken within three weeks. A choice had to be made."

"Hades, I'm _really_ trying to be a good partner and be patient and hear out why you made a mistake like let the asshole that _killed_ the Devourer go. I'm trying to _trust_ you, but if you keep stalling like this it's just going to get harder and harder for me to accept. Spit it out, and make it good." 

He smiled faintly at that, though it didn't last long. Instead, he turned towards his cup and picked it up, studying his reflection in the coffee contained within.

"We Ascians, by nature, alter bodies we inhabit to ensure they are strong enough to endure the sheer force of our aether. The Emet-Selch we captured was stronger than I, and so it was decided that he would go and force the matter. Zodiark will awaken soon, and just as he wore our Great-Grandson in the future, so too will he wear the one who awakens him. I volunteered to go instead, naturally, but we both came to the same agreements. Trapped within a vessel, ending Zodiark will be rather similar to killing any Ascian. We simply need enough pure aether. For this, I sent a message to the crellbron tending to Hydaelyn. She has already agreed to play Her part. It will by no means be an easy conflict, but should we win it will make the rest of this incredibly easy."

Priscilla stared at him, mentally chewing through his words. "But what about the souls trapped within Him?"

"I made a calculated guess and factored in the potentiality of, during the fight, your constant attempts to sunder them free. He will already be awake, and doing so will weaken him considerably. With Hydaelyn's proximity, returning them to Her and, thus, to the Lifestream will be far easier. Without a sea of light-tinted aether to wade through, I will be able to do so repeatedly."

"And what about _him._"

Emet-Selch winced slightly, before setting down his coffee and sighing. "Zodiark will, upon waking, do one of two things as he catches on to his duplicity. One, He will immediately destroy his essence and tear him asunder as He did to you in the future, or two he will compact him down much the same way your Thancred was, and make him watch. Considering that Lahabrea was one of the main contributors to his Concept, we sit at roughly three to one odds that He will let his consciousness live long enough to see the combat with the assumption that he will be forced to watch your death."

"So he's _martyring_ himself." The Warrior scowled, eyes narrowing.

"He's gambling on the spite of a god and waiting for you to _save_ him, little Monster." The counter came easily, and the Ascian sipped his coffee before turning slightly to study her, quirking a brow. "I presume we leave as soon as our third wakes up?"

"Come up with that all by yourself? Of _course_ we leave as soon as we can. I'd leave now except I've no way to get to the moon without you and you don't seem inclined to send me there by my onesie."

* * *

The Warrior whistled lowly as she watched the ripple that filled the air over Gridania. The air thrummed, and crackling bolts of blue light flit along it before tiny specs of figures began to emerge like a swarm of so many bees. As they spread out, drifting through the air, the first chunk of blue crystal came through. She thought that was Hydaelyn. She was wrong. 

It was one of the smaller chunks that orbited Her. A handful came through and hovered in place before the Mothercrystal herself started to drift outwards, that thrumming hum pulsing through everything loud enough that Priscilla could feel it in her bones. Neither the Eschaton's memories nor the ones she had gleaned with her Echo did the size justice, and all of a sudden she understood why Hydaelyn had seen fit to build a moon around Zodiark. 

it was the only thing big enough to possibly contain such a thing, if they were of an equal size. Which, she thought, they must have been. The paintings had depicted them as the same size after all. Clearing the blue-tinged rift, the rest of the smaller crystals followed Hydaelyn out and then began to orbit Her form as the ripple slowly faded along with the thrumming rumble that had made the trees themselves sway rhythmically. 

"Hey, what about the Doom she's got in her? Isn't her getting hurt and cracking, letting that out accidentally _really_ bad?"

"The crellbron will defend her. Their circle casting will be enough to divert one, potentially two concentrated blows." The Architect folded his arms, brows furrowed as he studied and focused, humming softly under his breath. The Warrior nudged him with an elbow, frowning.

"But what if there's more than that?"

Emet-Selch huffed, rolling his eyes. "Then you will have already died permanently and we are lost regardless. We have all the pieces of the puzzle. All that is left, is to either go up there and get Him, or wait down here for Him to come to us. I cannot decide which would work more in your favour. If we fight here... He is the Will of the Star. The very land itself will rebel against you. If we go up there, we will be on the moon, which never quite seems to agree with you." 

"Moon." Immediately, the Warrior pointed upwards before dropping her arm and shrugging. "Fewer people can get hurt up there. Anything you can do about the lack of gravity?"

"If I had more time, I might have been able to build something for you to that effect however as things stand 'tis best to rely upon the inherent enchantments within the church that will provide a mimicry of such." Turning away from the sight of the Mothercrystal hanging silently in the air, surrounded by nearly two hundred drifting specks of her current guards, 

Priscilla frowns, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she settled her hands against the hilts of her swords. "But what if He undoes those?"

"He won't think to." The Ascian straightened his back with a series of quiet pops before sighing. "... I wouldn't, at least, and He will be distracted should He have failed to immediately kill the one that woke him."

"Right. Urianger, are you ready?"

"Nay, 'tis Zodiark we face this day. Verily, I doubt such could be prepared for."

"... True. Kiss me for luck, both've you?"

* * *

Lahabrea, as the Ascian that had been injured the most recently, had thus been exempted from teleportation duty. As such, as he idly ambled about the halls of the floating fortress, when a ripple through the aether caught his attention he was distracted to the point that he walked into a wall. He _knew_ that aether.

He had nightmares about it. A thrumming hum rattled against the barrier around Azys Lla and as he stood there staring into nothing with his senses focused on trying to suppress the memories that flicked through his mind he was completely and utterly helpless. Such was how Thancred was able to pick him up and bodily shake him for a good thirty seconds before he came back to himself and hissed, wings flaring as he tried to get the gunblade to stop. 

_[Stop! Vifodnir's massive hips, you're going to break my neck!]_

"Then answer the bloody question! What's going on!"

_[How would I know! I've been here the whole time!]_

"You must have some idea!"

_[Stop shaking me and I might be able to figure it out!]_

Thancred reluctantly stopped, glaring at the dragonet as the Speaker climbed onto one of his forearms and anchored himself, holding his head between his paws. A deep breath in, and then a slow breath out, and he tentatively let his senses expand outwards. There, Hydaelyn, an unmistakable beacon. There, Emet-Selch and the Warrior. Oh, but now they were _gone_, and the Mothercrystal was moving, drifting ponderously... Upwards? 

A brief search along a projected trajectory confirmed it, and found Emet-Selch and the Warrior before darkness bloomed through the aether around them. It was _Zodiark_. It was _Him_, his _baby, _his Concept and He was compacting down into a much smaller, denser form. 

Oh. _Oh no_.

_[... You're not going to like this.]_

"There's a lot of things I don't like. It can't possibly be worse than having to work with _you_."


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It kwehmas  
Merr kwehmas

_{Father. I would aid them.}_

_{I understand. But I cannot do nothing. They are children. They deserve the chance to grow. To learn.}_

_{Then such shall come to pass.}_

_{The Hatchling, who beget the Concept, shall do what needs be done, and all shall be well.}_

* * *

The Warrior stepped out of the rift into the cathedral on the moon of the Source. It was essentially as she remembered it, with pews lining each side of a plush red carpet that ran from one end of the room to the other, terminating at the feet of a crystalline statue. The air was still, silent save for the muffled footfalls of those behind her as they stepped out of the rift. 

The only oddity was the man that stood in front of the statue, staring up at it. Sandy hair, slender, wearing the black robes of the Ascians, the figure slowly turned to face them and let a slight smile curl the corners of his lips upwards. Spreading his arms, he lifted his chin and let his voice rumble through the ambient aether. 

** _<<Hearken to My majesty, and obey.>>_ **

"Who's stupid idea was this anyway? Yours or his?" The Warrior felt one of her eyes twitch, before turning to casually put her back to the vessel that kept his arms raised. Emet-Selch hummed quietly, thoughtfully before tapping the air nearby to pull his staff out of his aether. "... Y'know I just remembered that we really shouldn't kill him, tied to the Star as he... Oh. Y'know what I might be able to do something about that..."

"I rather think we both had it at the same time." 

** _<<Thou stands now in the presence of greatness. Kneel, and bear my blessing unto the world.>>_ **

"Great. A thee'er and thou'er. Killing him would still be killing the star, so that's out."

"'Tis naught wrong with his syntax." Urianger folded his arms, lifting his chin slightly as she waved at him.

"Coming from _you_, no. Nothing wrong with it. You're the exception. You know I barely know the grammar for Eorzean common, let alone ancient tenses. Only ancient that I want tense is him." The Warrior jerked a thumb at the Architect, who fought the urge to laugh as he monitored the figure across the room. He was getting more and more frustrated, as was visible by the way the compact aether was starting to spike. 

"Tisk tisk, bold words from a gerontophile. Besides, technically this body is younger than you. By quite a bit. What are you now, thirty?" 

** _<<Attend! I am a God among Mortals->>_ **

Priscilla stretched idly, grunting as her back popped quietly. "Remind me to ask you what that means later. And a lady never reveals her age, asshat."

"'Tis a shame that I see none here." Reflexively, the Ascian sidestepped the lazy swat that the Warrior aimed at him.

"Hey! I represent that remark. Is he done his monologue yet?"

* * *

Lahabrea had a number of reservations regarding his current plan of action. They all paled in comparison to the weight of the responsibility he felt when he remembered the time he had poured into the Zodiark Concept. It was his work that had saved the world, and doomed it all at once. The primal was too powerful, and hungered for too much aether. It was the main reason that he was opening a portal to the Sanctuary on the moon of the Source. 

Thancred went with him because he was there, and because he knew Priscilla was up there, fighting without him. He stepped out of the rift a pace behind the Speaker. He was anxious because of the delay that the Convocation member had insisted upon in order to build and glamour a bipedal body for himself, and as he surveyed the room he felt the feeling justified. 

The Warrior was pulling herself out of a hole in the ground, smoking slightly as Urianger lay groaning in the corner, partially buried by broken pews. The Architect was nowhere to be seen, but in the center of the room, with one of Priscilla's swords stuck part of the way through his torso, stood a man. As they watched, the body minutely adjusted to gain more angular features, sandy hair lengthening and darkening as pitch black eyes with two luminous points of red turned towards the newcomers. 

** _<<Hearken to my majesty, and obey. Kneel, and thou shalt be spared.>>_ **

"Bloody hells." 

"Get the elezen up." Holding one hand off to the side, the Speaker's trident manifested in his grasp before he started across the room to leave the gunbreaker muttering and growling about being given orders. Rifling through his pouches for a healing potion, he dug through the pews until he reached the groggy astrologian and eased the soothing liquid down his throat. 

"Steady on, up we get." Pulling Urianger out of the rest of the splintered wood, Thancred helped him to his feet and then glanced over to keep tabs on the combat raging through the building. Zodiark seemed singularly inclined to target those that were already down, which meant that Lahabrea had essentially planted himself in the way and constantly rebuilt the defensive walls of ice almost as quickly as they were being torn down. The Warrior had settled on his flank, and seemed to be muttering something to the Ascian that had him slowly nodding even as he grit his teeth and planted his trident into the ground to better anchor himself. "What happened?"

"She hit him, and he enraged with the loss of the souls she tore free. Emet-Selch has thus fled to Hydaelyn to deliver them, and shalt return forthwith." Shaking his head slightly, the elezen scrounged around for his starglobe and cards before setting it to float in mid-air over his hand. 

"I bet he took exception to that."

"To be fair we sorta goaded him right off the bat! Get up here Thancred!" Priscilla waved her remaining sword at the gunbreaker, who snorted and drew his firearm. 

"Don't have to tell me that!"

* * *

Priscilla thought things were going well, for all that they had turned pear-shaped for a good minute and a half. Lahabrea was still recovering, which meant he had volunteered to act as a personal guard for Urianger and ranged attacker while both she and Thancred harried their foe from close quarters. All they had to do was stay standing until the Architect returned, because she had noticed almost immediately that any physical damage done to the primal healed within six seconds. 

It made sense. That much aether packed into such a small form, his vitality must have been ridiculously strong. It had taken two tries to haul her sword back out of him, and she made a general nuisance of herself to try and draw as much of his ire as she could. It was standard operating practice, after all. The doors slammed open, and Emet-Selch strode through, backed by luminous blue light. Priscilla immediately noted that it wasn't part of the _plan_, and opened her mouth to say something when a swirl of darkness enveloped her Ascian and then sank into his form. Tempering, she noted, and adjusted her trajectory, preparing to bolt-

Like a fine mist, the darkness seeped back out and dissipated as if burned away. Brushing himself off, Emet-Selch smirked and adjusted his gloves. Holding one hand out, the Architect hummed a series of words through the aether around him and snapped his fingers. Waves of aether rippled outwards and smothered the glowing marks that manifested and primed themselves to do... _Something_. She wasn't entirely certain, with the way the orange that had painted the floors suddenly vanished. Everything had suddenly gotten a whole lot safer, and she took a spare moment to pick the next spot she would strike at. 

Thancred bought her an extra couple of seconds by getting himself knocked across the room and then taking a potshot at the primal that had oriented on him. Zodiark seemed surprised that the hyur hadn't simply died on impact, and tilted his head as he studied him until a trident rudely jabbed into his side. Brushing it away with a wave of his hand, he ignored the Speaker once Lahabrea's bipedal construct shattered with the slightest of aetheric pressure. The Warrior was briefly concerned before she noted the way something pale yellow was obscured by Emet-Selch's heavy coats as the Architect strode forward and then stopped, eyes narrowed as he continued to focus on countering or redirecting as many of the aetheric attacks as he could. 

There, she decided. Somewhere she had already struck. She could wedge the crack left behind by the first soul-sundering strike open just a bit more. Gritting her teeth, she flit back to where Hades was muttering to the dragonet that clung to the back of his robes. 

"Ready?"

"Technicality dictates that I reply 'yes', _but_ I needs must warn you. We could do this a dozen times and still have souls left to free. The Speaker has brought up a solution, however. A three-step plan, but one that requires Hydaelyn's presence. Do you trust me? Utterly, to the point where you will act as I indicate without question?"

"Technicality dictates that I say yes but common sense can probably tell you I'll go back on that the moment it seems you're gunna die." Priscilla stepped forward and swung downwards, severing through the magic that had rippled across towards them and painted the floor about their feet a painful orange. Emet-Selch huffed, before catching her by the arm and pulling her around to drag their lips together in a brief kiss. She startled briefly, blinking blankly as she was caught off-guard before he _winked_ at her. 

"Consider this my solemn vow that I shall not. When I give the signal, strike, but do not strike through. Cut in, and do not withdraw. Maintain your Sunder, stretch the moment out for as long as you can. All I require at the moment, is that you _live_."

A ripple of aether interrupted her inquiry, and when she turned back to press him about it grit her teeth at the rift that closed where he had stood.

* * *

It was easy enough for Emet-Selch to disable the shields around Azys Lla. More difficult to alter what needed to be altered fast enough, but thankfully he had a number of willing hands working for him as he delegated a number of the tasks to the sundered Ascians that had stuck around. Five minutes was all that he was allowing himself. On the third, the crellbron eased Hydaelyn out of their rough aetheric rift. On the fourth, the key to it all was settled into the Allagan containment and waited placidly for her part. 

The very second that the fifth was up the Architect closed his eyes, prayed to Hydaelyn that everything would hold and sent his aetheric senses upwards towards the moon. Three live, fragmented souls, one wavering dangerously even as another burned all the brighter for the protective rage that filled her were picked out of the murky gloom that the (until recently) slumbering Primal exuded. Some brief mental math to make up for the inevitable momentum and a gentle tug on the Blessing that had burned away Zodiark's attempted Tempering filled him with what was, at first, a sluggish trickle of energy. 

She was was worried about hurting him, he realized, before he quickly pointed out that such was hardly enough to cripple him. Then it was a deluge, and for all that it didn't _want_ to mix nicely with his own void-tainted aether, he proverbially muscled it into line and ignored the way it burned through him. A gesture, and then a _snap_, and then...

The Warrior hit the ground and rolled immediately back to her feet, eyes quickly scanning the surrounding area. Urianger landed somewhat more heavily, though that was largely because he twisted to cushion the unconscious Thancred's fall with his own body. Zodiark drifted down slowly, brows furrowing as He tried to determine where, exactly, they were before letting his gaze settle on the Architect. 

**_<<You think to imprison Me here? I shall break this craft as I have broken the_ _mortal.>>_**

"Priscilla! Strike now!" Hades braced himself, reaching forward with one hand even as he sought the crack that had been formed with the first Sundering strike, prying and brushing against that tiny, suppressed mote of cracked amethyst and gold-

-his world went black about the edges as his mind tried to shut down to deal with the pain that suffused him-

_<<Raise thy crystal aloft, Ascian, for thou art not alone.>>_

* * *

"Priscilla! Strike now!"

She didn't know why she was there, but she knew he _must_ have had a reason. It was Azys Lla, and she actually somewhat recognized the area if only from her time fighting the Warring Triad. He had already said that Hydaelyn couldn't be controlled the way the other primals had been, but hadn't that been because they lacked the proper anatomy? Well, he had a physical, meat-based body with a nervous system now, didn't he? Maybe that was the plan. He probably needed to be weakened first, which was why she was, supposedly, still going to sunder souls out of him. It made sense, or so the Warrior thought to herself as she slid around and swiped across with the first blade. 

It was forced short by a ripple of void-based aether, and she sundered through it to make way for the second strike. The tip of the blade caught against the edge of the robes, and she lunged forward to push it through the fabric. It sank in about an inch, even as it cleaved into the nigh-solid aether in front of her, and she fought to press in further even as she braced against the way the air around Zodiark rippled with pained rage. He was trying to push her further away, but a back met her own and kept her propped up even as she dug in. 

Twelve seconds. She held her attempt to Sunder for _twelve seconds_ before the air between them exploded and sent her skidding and rolling until she found her feet again. A glance down at her hand confirmed what the muted pain that throbbed up her arm had warned her of. Shards of her broken sword had embedded themselves through the meat of her forearm and her fingers were mangled. She didn't bother to try and count them to make sure she still had them all, instead adjusting her grip on the remaining sword and tugging on her Echo. A swift sweep of the blade had her staggering before a double-beat filled the air. 

** _<<YOU DARE!?>>_ **

Flexing her newly healed hand, Priscilla braced herself for the blow she expected and never received, eyes widening as she took in the way the Primal was trying to push Himself to his feet in a mirrored effort to Emet-Selch. She wasn't the best at math, but as she glanced at her remaining blade, the Warrior let a slow grin cross her face. A hand for what seemed like a substantial amount of damage? Certainly a fair trade, considering she could force herself to heal.

** _<<I rebuilt the laws of the very Star that bred you. I will->>_ **

_{I rise and join the chorus.}_

The room shook with the force of the roar that reverberated through it, drawing all eyes to where Tiamat, bound still had remained largely unnoticed with her silence in the center of a primal containment unit. The Allagan technology around her hummed to life, as did the platform that Zodiark had come to rest upon, and He shrieked as the air around him rippled. Only one thing for it, she realized. 

The Warrior drew one of her daggers and charged back in.

* * *

This must have been what a pipeline felt like when someone forced too much liquid through it, thought the Architect as he straightened. It hadn't been enough. Some quick mental math confirmed it. Regardless of how Hydaelyn's enervation had heightened his inherent ability to shepherd souls, the Primal had retained enough to fight the siphoning that should have pulled his essence out of the vessel he currently held and into Tiamat. Zodiark was building his defenses, and as the Warrior attempted to approach Him she was both blocked and pushed away away by a successive series of concussive blasts. Hades needed either a way to immediately weaken the Primal, or...

Well, he still had one final trick up his sleeve. Both literally, and figuratively. Circling a finger around one wrist, he delicately eased the series of red blossoms and spiraling crystalline vines into place, and narrowed his focus. Gaining a faint glow, it shimmered before curling into his aether and rapidly going dark. 

No, he corrected himself. _This_ must have been what a pipe must have felt like. The aether stored within the crystalline vine suffused him, inundating him until he felt fit to burst. Scraped together from every spare moment he had thought to skim some of the excess of his own in the event of a future emergency, the Architect felt the strength saved up over the eons surge through him and pointed towards Tiamat and Zodiark. 

A wet tearing sound came from the Primal's vessel, before Zodiark's aether and _only_ Zodiark's aether was torn free and siphoned into the dragon's form, leaving the thousands of souls threatening to burst out and fill the room. The body staggered, before catching himself as Emet-Selch's counterpart from the future surfaced and _held on_. 

Silence filled the room, broken only by the way Priscilla's footsteps slowed to a stop and the ragged breathing of the slowly buckling vessel she had been approaching. 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that most of the comments last chapter were basically screaming xD  
Here! Have another chapter! This one's short but it's midnight and I work in seven hours

"It was the best course of action, considering we simply _cannot_ risk killing Him. Not until we find a way to unbind him from the Star, lest everything die." 

Priscilla stared moodily down at where the dragon was suspended within a globe, bound and chained in addition to the restraints that had held her before. Both Architects lingered nearby, one leaning against the railing next to her and the other wiping blood from his lips as he slowly recovered from the ordeal. Lahabrea growled quietly, landing on the railing in front of her and reaching out to tap her elbow gently.

_[I can work on it, when I have time. Don't **look** at me like that, Eschaton. Tiamat was fully aware of the state of stasis we would place her in. She volunteered, quoting her imprisonment as prime conditions to restrain and seal the primal.]_

"Precisely. 'Tis not a permanent solution by any means. There are other moons, after all. Other fragments of Zodiark. However, with our forces spread throughout the Shards, I highly doubt that many if any of His followers will remain. Besides, little Monster, are you going to ignore that the dragon chose this?"

"I don't _like_ it." The Warrior grumbled and heaved out a sigh, before turning towards where the more taxed of the two Emet-Selch's was seated with his legs stretched out. He glanced up as she oriented on him, and flinched before averting his gaze. "Yeah, you _know_ what you did."

"It was the only way. To do aught but force a confrontation would have allowed Him to regain more strength. Now, at least, the only fragments they will be able to draw from are singular multiples across the Shards, as opposed to -how many times rejoined is the Star currently? Eight?" He glanced at his present-day counterpart, who shrugged. "You are right, in that the exact number matters little. Anything beyond the strength of a single shard is entirely unmanageable. Even the strength of a single-"

"I'm sure I'll hear all about it later. What, 'xactly, am I supposed to call you though. You're not _my_ Ascian." The Warrior settled into a crouch, narrowing her eyes and folding her arms as she did. "You let me _die_. Mind, you didn't have a choice. So that's not all on _you_, now, is it."

"I was here first. You are the interloper. I would suggest _that_." Her Emet-Selch pushed away from the railing and looked thoughtful for a moment, before shrugging. "'Tis fitting, if nothing else."

"Polydegmon, then, for I came after and 'tis true enough. I did receive many. More than I should have." Bloodied teeth were flashed in an unamused smile, mirrored by the standing Architect, as if they were sharing a personal joke before Priscilla glanced at the two of them and then waved a hand to get their attention.

"Polyhwhat?" 

"Polydegmon. Come now, little Monster. Surely you didn't think we lacked formal surnames, did you? Such would have become your own, however you decided against it and kept your own." Winter gold eyes narrowed playfully as Emet-Selch idly nudged her with a knee. "Us Amaurotine were particularly big on the secret of names, after all. We have many. Some are derived from our parentage, as in son of or daughter of so-and-so."

"And some are not. Such as 'Polydegmon', which came about shortly after I-... _We? _Took the title of Emet-Selch. 'Tis tied into the Underworld aspects of our culture, which you would know as the lifestream." Wiping the back of one clawed gauntlet gingerly across his cheek to try and wipe some more of the blood off, the seated Ascian cleared his throat. "Yours was-"

"Epaine. The fearful." The Warrior pushed herself up properly to her feet, looking thoughtful. "I kept it because it meant both that I was scared and because people were fearful of the title of Eschaton."

"You never seemed to be." Polydegmon held out a hand, and winced as Emet-Selch pulled him to his feet. "However, I digress. I am _exhausted, _and somehow feel as though despite my community service, you would still rather see me shackled and chained. Or at the very least, as a prisoner. Considering my utter inability to fight at the moment, I would be more than willing to simply concede my defeat in this, provided I am granted ample accommodations."

"Like what, food and a bed?" Priscilla eyed him warily, before grimacing. "I mean, you did play a pretty big part in catching the rest of the souls and then giving them to Hydaelyn. That's fair. How long do you think you might sleep for?"

"If I could possibly manage it? A decade, minimum. Unlikely, however, so I would request at least a few days. Enough to get my feet back under me. Enough to begin to heal."

"You can't be seriously considering it, 'Scilla." Thancred glowered from where he was propped up against the wall, clearly eavesdropping as Urianger continued to tend to his wounds. "He forced a confrontation and almost got us all killed! Not to mention _everything _he's done to-... You're going to just counter anything I say with 'he was tempered', aren't you."

"I mean sort've. I planned on seeing what our Architect could do about stasis and healing sleep. 'Cause he _is_ a prisoner, he did fuck up, and he did almost get everyone killed and ruin everything, but it also did work out. I hurt, I'm tired, and people are going to expect me to make judgement on the war crimes of someone that came from the sodding _future_ just to see me and work to _also_ help his faction win in this time too." The Warrior lifted both hands and scrubbed them across her face, sighing. "So for now, jail and food and _sleep_ until we can figure this out properly. We've never really tried to jail Ascians before? So unless we put the necklace thingy back on him - assuming, 'course, that it wasn't broken and will still work - we've got jack all for keeping him contained."

"You could just kill him." The white-haired hyur scowled, flinching slightly as Urianger finished bandaging his arm.

"Can't. I owe him." 

"You don't owe him-"

"'Cred." Priscilla turned towards the gunblade, staring tiredly at him. "Without him, id've killed Emet-Selch in his recreation of Amaurot. Without him, I'd've never found the Exarch to chat with him and figure out who he really was. Without the shoebill that'd been following me around, there's a lot've things I would've missed. I _owe_ him. And that complicates things."

The Architect paused, before sharing a glance with the pale yellow dragonet still perched on the railing. Shoulders slumping, he fished out the necklace in question and held it out to Polydegmon, who winced and put it on. As it clicked, locking, Hades stepped up and wrapped an arm around the Warrior's shoulders.

"Lahabrea can arrange for something in the lower levels. In the meantime, I will bring the four of us to the residential area so that we might all head to our rooms and get some rest. I have a few complications of my own that I must needs work through, though I sorely need the time to recuperate myself."

_[Go on. If he tries anything, do believe that it would be my very great pleasure to knock him out and ask Vidofnir to sit on him.]_

Priscilla grimaced, before slowly nodding. 

* * *

"Thou art yet still awake, paramour." 

Urianger's voice drew the Warrior from her musings as she kept her eyes shut, sprawled out across the bed between her boys. Long, slender fingers gently eased through her hair and along her scalp, drawing a soft sigh from her before she shifted to tuck both hands against her ribs and grimaced in the darkness of the room. "Think I could ever retire?"

"Hmm. Truly, I wonder. Technically, 'tis certainly a possibility, however I doubt thou wouldst be content with such a thing."

"I dunno. I'm... _tired_. In ways that I dunno if I can sleep off. I keep trying to put everything to rest but I just... I dunno. I don't _know_. He killed the Devourer. But he saved... I dunno, himself? And for the _stupidest_ reason, too." Finally cracking open her eyes, Priscilla kept mental track of the soft snoring coming from her left as she glanced to her right, vaguely making out the outline of the elezen when he shifted and propped himself up on an elbow. "It's all horribly confusing. And I'm not the _smartest_, either."

Urianger nodded slowly, and resumed running his fingers gently through her hair. "Thou must needs come to a decision."

"Do I, though?" 

"Refusing to choose his life or death is also a decision." A slight smile coloured the astrologian's words as he leaned and carefully pressed a kiss against her cheek. "Thou chose his life and imprisonment previously, if only to inquire after the movement of his troops."

"I just... I dunno how to say it. Words are _hard_." A plaintive note whined out of her, before she lifted both hands to scrub at her face. Tensing slightly, she realized the quiet snoring had stopped, and winced when a mote of light lit the air above the three of them courtesy of the groggy Ascian.

"Little Monster..."

"I _know_, I'm trying not to be emotionally all over the place so you can sleep. It's... I just. I can't. I don't know. And I hate that."

"There are many things you feel, and hate is most notably _not_ one of them. Resignation, irritation, sadness and unease, however..." Stretching idly and yawning widely, Hades reached to pull first her, and then the elezen closer in a bid to drape an arm over his lover and wife. "You have the feel of one whom has already made their decision, and is attempting to rationalize ways to convince others to _accept_ it." 

"It feels _wrong_ to kill him. Without him coming back, you'd be dead and I'd be... I dunno. Same as I was before. Not happy, but gliding through life and I'd be _alone_. And yeah, it's not fair to weigh the Devourer's life against yours, 'cause no life is worth wagering like that. Not yours, not theirs, not mine. Nobody's. And he was tempered. If I can give the other Ascians a chance, why not him?" The words bubbled out of her in a rush, before she flopped her hands against her ribs once more. "It's 'cause he's _you_. That's what's got me wincing and cringing."

"You care. You cannot help but to do so. Some part of you wishes to keep him close, because he is me, yet the larger portion rejects such because _I_ am me. 'Tis a difference of three hundred years, give or take, 'twixt the two of us." Scooting enough that he could tuck his nose in against her shoulder, Emet-Selch closed his eyes and let the light go out. "'Tis an easy enough solution. Send him to Garlemald to teach Scavea and Garlond. He can work to bring the Star to an elevated level of technology, and _I_ can spend my life with you."

"Thou could thus convince the others by claiming public service." Urianger pillowed his head on his elbow as he idly nosed through her hair, free hand settling atop one of her own. "Set an equally potent watcher to ease the mistrust of others."

"Right. Like who? _Zenos?_" Priscilla's amused tone was muffled by the way she turned her head to first idly kiss the elezen on one side of her, and then the Ascian on the other. 

"-Please-, my great-grandson would _literally_ shoot him. 'Tis reflexive at this point, I'm afraid. Lahabrea would be a better choice. But, little Monster, be aware that it is barely the midnight bell. Get some _sleep_."


	40. Chapter 40

"This is Polydegmon. Poly, this is Biggs and Wedge."

"You never shorten _his_ name, Warrior. Why shorten mine?" 

"Because Emet-Selch's a hell've a lot farther into his community service than you are. Now then. Cid's in charge, but he's out at the moment with the fleet. Biggs, Poly's going to be acting as a... Well, walking library. There's limits to what he'll teach you, but he knows what those are and already swore to adhere to them. And I swear to the _Twelve_ if Nero ropes him into making magitek dicks when he gets back, I'll... I dunno. Probably laugh, throw my hands into the air and sell them for a gallon've gil. Just try t'keep focused, alright?"

* * *

Priscilla stretched as she ambled around Revenant's Toll, yawning widely before tucking her hands behind her head. A brief glance upwards at the moon noted the chunk of blue crystal that drifted next to it, and a slight smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards as she watched flickers and ripples undulate about the primal. The crellbron, as the largest group of individuals that didn't, technically, need to _breath_ had thrown themselves into assisting Hydaelyn with the processes she was mired down with. It had been made very clear that they didn't _have_ to, but then Kel'louch had pointed out that they were effectively immortal beings that lacked a purpose with the assured safety of their home, so they might as well give her a hand while they were still there.

A rock clattered behind her, deliberately scuffed in forewarning as a pair of arms looped through her arms and about her shoulders from behind. Relaxing into the hug, the Warrior closed her eyes and let her arms drop, sighing contently. A familiar nose nudged along the side of her neck before her Ascian pressed his lips against the skin there in a gentle kiss. 

"Good news, I take it?"

"Zenos is reveling in the hunt. As of yet, they have managed to, while sustaining minimal casualties, fill nearly all of the cargo holds with captive Ascians. The current debate was whether or not to return before the final few have been filled to allow you the ability to remove their tempering." 

Priscilla wrinkled her nose, before tilting her head to peer at him as Hades idly rubbed the side of his face against her cheek. "That reminds me. Zodiark tried to temper you, and it didn't take."

"You _noticed_, then. I had hoped you might have missed such." Emet-Selch wrinkled his nose, hunching his shoulders. "I demanded that Hydaelyn temper me, to grant me the use of my absent Echo as well as to act as a conduit for Her power. It also allowed me to more efficiently shunt souls to Her."

"A light-based blessing, layered on top've a void-tainted immortal. Why do I feel like that's got to be constantly painful?" Sighing as she lifted her hand to cup the side of his face, the Warrior reached up to rest the other atop one of his own, feeling the material of his glove beneath her fingers. The Architect huffed, turning his face to press a kiss against her palm. 

"'Tis not _painful_, per se. Irritating. Aggravating, perhaps, in the discomfort it brings me, but I could not risk otherwise. At the very least, Urianger has confirmed that I do not appear to be _acting_ any differently than I was without it. T'was a calculated gamble based upon how you seem to utterly lack any fanatical devotion to Her and act, by and large, like yourself."

"I'm not going to _say_ i'm not happy with that, because I'm basically tempered by her myself and have an echo and everything, but I put an awful lot've effort into de-tempering you." 

"Yes, well, not exactly the most _enjoyable_ moment myself, either. If nothing else she attempted to persuade otherwise. 'Tis not as if such is permanent, regardless. A Primal can willingly choose to release a servant, after all."

Her eyes widened, and she shifted out of his grasp to turn around and stare at him. "That's possible?"

"Theoretically. She and I discussed the possibility. 'Tis not as though there are other Primals that have been willing to lose thralls, after all." Stretching idly, the Architect grumbled under his breath and rubbed at his lower back for a moment. "I digress. Of our goals, the only ones that truly remain to give us any grief are twofold. The remaining shards of Zodiark, and the Ardor. You said you could undo it, and while I _was_ paying attention, I certainly wish to speak with you further on how exactly it is that you can simply undo such."

"I'm surprised you lot didn't figure it out. It's pretty simple, actually." The Warrior grinned, before tucking her hands on her hips. "Remember the talk we had about things that resonate together? It's sort've like that, but you just gotta make each thing vibrate at the same time, in the same way. I told you that."

"You also told me the possibility of a river replacing an individual's house, yes. I do recall. However I believe we tried something like that. It failed, and thus we eventually resorted to the calamities and each elemental conflux of a result. 'Tis simply too much to attempt to resonate at the same time. Even if we managed to utilize a network of aetherites, to get nigh every mote of aether across the source to resonate at the same time would be a monumental undertaking." 

"Congratulations. You've reached the mentality of everyone to ever fight primals." She leaned up to kiss him, earning a disgruntled, if subdued, grunt in return. "You asked if I trusted you. Do you trust me?"

"In nigh exactly the same way you trust me, little Monster. I reserve the right to decide your actions are _idiotic_ and thus go back on a loosely given promise." Winter gold eyes narrowed as the Ascian folded his arms, studying her aether. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing yet. I'm going to go and check on Hydaelyn though, so you get some rest alright? Midgardsormr can take me up there. I'm pretty sure since he flew here in the first place, he probably doesn't need to _breath_."

* * *

"Hey." 

_<<I see the question that burns within thy heart, my Champion.>>_

"And? The answer?"

_<<Thou art correct, in all respects save for one. Such is a necessity. Naught will come about naturally without it.>>_

"... Fine. But not until we get everything sorted alright?"

* * *

The Warrior waved to the dragon as he dissipated back into aether, and turned to head into Revenant's Toll. A quick clamber up the side of the building had her level with one of the windows, and the latch twitched open easily under the guidance of a few bits of hooked metal. Clambering in and shutting it behind her, Priscilla meandered down the hall to find her room. 

To find it occupied, too, though that didn't bother her that much. Emet-selch was stretched out on the bed while Urianger read at her desk, and for a moment she stood at the door and took in the peaceful scene. After a long moment, winter gold eyes lifted from their book to note her presence before one grey eyebrow quirked in silent inquiry. A helpless shrug of one shoulder answered him, before she stepped in and clicked the door shut behind her, much as she had the window. 

"Twelve, he just looks so peaceful like that."

"Hydaelyn's Tempering, at odds with his void-tainted aether, causes him to accrue fatigue at a faster rate than normal." The elezen matched her soft tone in an attempt to keep from rousing the Ascian, and he marked his page in his book before closing it and setting it aside. 

"Just got back from talking to Her, actually. She's gunna let him go as soon as he wakes up. Apparently he threatened to try and force a connection between them if She didn't, so that he could bring Her power to bear against Zodiark." Stretching idly, she took the invitation to sit as the astrologian carefully slid the chair back a few ilms and patted his lap. Leaning her head against his shoulder as she settled sideways across his thighs, the Warrior sighed and closed her eyes at the feeling of his fingers gently massaging her scalp. "Is having magical hands a sorcerer thing? Or did I just luck out and find two men good with their fingers."

"As is said in polite company, practice makes perfect." A ghost of a smile tinted Urianger's voice, before he glanced over to where Emet-Selch continued to sleep. "... Admittedly, he does appear peaceful."

"Admitting you want to kiss him in his sleep?"

"Such is no sin to think so. Our paramour doth bear attractive features, should one care to take the time to enjoy them." The elezen let a smile play out across his face as the Warrior chuckled and lifted her head, kissing the side of his face. 

"Not wrong at all. You're not so bad yourself. I've a job for you though, Bookman." The levity in the air faded as he blinked and took a moment to study the rogue on his lap, taking in the way her words had turned serious. She reached up to remove her mask, setting it against her knee and sighing. "It's not -that- bad. I don't trust his Tempering not to mess with him, is all, and in the event something happens between now and then I want to make sure you're going to help."

"With...?" Quirking a grey brow once more, Urianger watched as the Warrior rubbed her temples and then caught his hand between her own. She took a brief moment to pick her words, before nodding. 

"The reason the Ascians couldn't get the shards to naturally go back together is because Hydaelyn's the key. So long as She's alive, the Shards are going to naturally resist their attempts. That's why their successes came with such rampant destruction, 'cause while Zodiark was tied to the star, She's tied to the lifestream. To the very aether of everything. The building blocks, the foundations, the beginnings, not the end results. Once we figure out how to get Zodiark untethered from the Star, She's going to use Herself up and put everything back together. She can make everything resonate the right way, at the right time, across each Shard and the Source. And it's going to kill her, and then there'll be no more primals." Pausing, Priscilla grimaced before sighing. "See, that doesn't even sit right with _me, _but I dunno if that's because of the Tempering or just because she's not that type of monster that needs to be put down."

"Thou worries our paramour might dispute the necessity of such."

"I do. We need to get him focused on working on what we need him to work on. For that, we need the rest of the Ascians here to think-tank, 'cause I don't feel like it'll be as easy as me cutting the concept of his connection to the Star. Can I count on you to keep him pointed in the right direction?" She tipped her head up to catch the elezen's eye, smiling sheepishly. "To answer the question I feel like you're gunna ask, yeah, I am planning on going places. I'm going to go and get Polydegmon, and we're going to go and try and bring the other Ascian's here before we work on a few other things. And I'm going to tell him that's the plan, and it's going to be the truth but it's not gunna be the _whole_ truth."

"And if any could suss out thine intentions thusly skewed, t'would be a master of twisting the truth." He frowned, before slowly nodding. "Thou intends to delegate, trusting our intellect to devise a method with which to untether Zodiark whilist thou and Polydegmon work through bringing the other tempered Ascians to Hydaelyn that She might free them, in addition to dealing with the remaining fragments and souls therein."

"I do. I'm not going to say that I don't _trust_ him, but better that he tries to screw me over than anyone else. We know I'm durable enough to withstand pretty much anything, and I've learned what it feels like for someone to get a grip on my Blessing so if he tries to smother it, I'll know. 'Sides, I'd rather have him ferrying souls than having a hand in the untethering." Leaning in to press a kiss against Urianger's lips, she smiled before tapping a finger against the ornate piece of metal about his neck. "I've got a gift for you, by the way. Can you take this off for a moment?"

An almost shy smile crossed the astrologian's face before he nodded and reached up to do so, setting the fancy gorget aside. It took a moment for the Warrior to dig what she was looking for out of a pocket, but when she did he blushed to the tips of his ears. It was a band of soft leather, flexible and designed to sit under the ornamentation he had just removed comfortably. She let him study it for a moment, grinning when his fingers trailed along the constellations that had been debossed into the material. 

"I know, collars aren't really the polite gift but I thought you'd like it. And the ability to hide it as needed. You're _ours_, though, and if you ever doubt that... well, just imagine my mortification when I had to track down a leatherworker and tell them what I wanted. Nobody does that if they're not serious."

"Wilt thou...?" Swallowing slightly, he gestured to it and then to his neck, drawing a quiet laugh from the Warrior as she nodded. 

It fit perfectly. He made a note to ask her who's work it was, but that was a thought for a later day as he busied himself with capturing her lips with his own. 


	41. Chapter 41

Emet-Selch had a great deal on his mind as he watched the Warrior make her way across the street to the Ironworks. As much as he had been _physically_ unconscious, his aether had rather more dozed than achieved any true sleep. As such, he had inadvertently eavesdropped on the conversation between his little Monster and their lover. It stung, ever so slightly, that she didn't think she could trust him enough to come to him and directly talk about Hydaelyn's death, but he understood. 

He could not deny the unease that had swept through his system at the concept. At the time, it had set his proverbial teeth on edge and even contemplating the topic after the fact had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Tempering. He was aware of it, quarantined it as best he could, and turned to Urianger to quirk a brow. The elezen had sighed once the doors closed behind Priscilla, and even now it was clear that he already missed their mutual. 

"Well then. 'Tis my turn to leave, I suppose. Hydaelyn is determined to see if She can lift Her own Tempering, and I find myself a rather willing participant. Do you need anything, while I'm out?"

"Nay. However, I must needs return to Azys Lla. Priscilla didst wish for us to gather with the other Convocation members to devise methods with which to remove Zodiark's connection to the Star, and as such 'tis mine intent to prepare for such inasmuch as can be done." Urianger stepped closer, tilting his head down just enough to entice a kiss from the Ascian. 

"Hmph. Well, I suppose I could attend a meeting of such. We _are_ running a smidge short staffed at the moment, after all. Go on. I will find you there once I have rallied the lesser Ascians we have at our disposal and sent them to go and replace Elidibus and whomever else they might be able to." A faint smirk crossed the Architect's features as the astrologian smiled softly and turned towards the aetherite. A long moment was spent cataloging and enjoying Urianger's retreating profile before a snap of his fingers pulled a rift about Hades. 

* * *

"You want me to... I was under the impression I was essentially under house arrest until the end of time." Polydegmon quirked a brow as he swiveled in the chair, folding his arms to size up the Warrior that was methodically searching the workbenches. 

"Right tool for the right job, yeah? Besides, I sent my Hades off to do something loads more important than act as a ferryman. I'm _trusting_ that I can offer out an olive branch without you stealing it and beating me upside the head with it." Things clattered to the ground, paperwork scattered, and Priscilla cursed under her breath before puffing out her cheeks and tucking her hands onto her hips. "Well _fuck_. I thought he'd've left them."

"So long as I wear this necklace, I cannot act as a ferryman. What are you looking for?" Pushing himself up, the Ascian made his way over and stooped, starting to scoop up fallen items and stack them neatly onto the tables they had been knocked off of. He paused when the Warrior crouched to eye him and then slowly started to grin. 

"Yeah, 's why I'm going to take that off of you without telling anyone. Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, and all that. Say, you're a technology-person, right? You understand magitek engines?"

Quirking a brow once more, Polydegmon slowly straightened and watched as she pushed herself up. A brief study of her aether confirmed it, and he sighed as he rubbed his temples. "Why do I have the feeling you are about to jeopardize the little faith I've managed to cultivate over the course of the singular day I have had here?"

"Look, I'm just saying if you can make a Falcon start without the keys then I'd be _really_ happy." Blinking rapidly, Priscilla clasped her hands behind her back and shifted from side to side, trying and failing to look shy and innocent. "Cid _never_ lets me fly it after what happened to the skiff I accidentally crashed after Nidhogg..."

"With good reason. I have _seen_ your piloting skills. I did watch bits and pieces of you life when I had the time to, lest you forget." 

"_Pleeeeease?_"

"You stalled a manacutter in mid-air. You did _not_ survive." Still, the Ascian heaved a sigh and waved a hand through the air. "Fine, _fine_, remove the amulet and show me where Garlond keeps it. Blessed Zodiark, I never could deny you much."

The Warrior beamed at him with delight, before hauling on his shirt to bring the necklace within reach. "I know. I'm hoping that also means you won't just eject me out into the void to drift and leave me to die repeatedly."

* * *

Polydegmon _insisted_ that he drive, if only because at least then the Falcon had a passable chance at remaining unscathed. They spent roughly a bell flying around before they returned and she told him it was time to get down to the serious bit of their day. That meant a jaunt to one of the Shards, a quick trip to the moon and then down to the slumbering fragment of his former god. He could feel her constantly scrutiny, and it only eased up once they retreated with the souls and he had taken them before Hydaelyn. 

The younger version of himself was there, drifting and focusing as both he and the Mothercrystal attempted to figure out how to properly remove Her influence. It seemed as if little progress had been made, but he could tell from the way the current Architect held himself that they at least had _something_. He could recognize the way his younger self had mentally kicked into overdrive by how he had shifted back to the Amaurotine language and gestured, sparing him nothing more than a polite glance and incline of his head before he continued. Polydegmon knew better than to interrupt whatever thought was being worked through, if only because he hated it himself. 

The Warrior seemed to have no such reservations. She pushed away from him and drifted out to snag Emet-Selch's coat, anchoring herself with all the ease of a monkey having caught a tree mid free-fall. It was there that he truly noted the differences between himself and the Hades he watched. 

One hand had stopped gesturing so that Priscilla could get a one-armed hug. A quiet greeting was hurriedly muttered out in Eorzean common between Amaurotine concepts. She fit seamlessly into the conversation, pointing out a difference in her own, clumsy way between what they discussed and the shared ability to Sunder that she and Hydaelyn both possessed and the conversation continued on from there. 

Polydegmon floated listlessly, feeling largely ignored and mournful as if he was staring at something he had both lost and lost the right to. 

It didn't last long. His younger counterpart made an offhand, sassy comment and the Warrior snorted before gesturing towards him and mentioning his current burden. The current Architect heaved out a resigned sigh and mentioned that yes, maybe it _was_ time to take a break from theory-crafting and a gloved hand flicked out to beckon him over. 

"To whit, you _do_ have a purpose here beyond simply to annoy me, little Monster." Switching properly to Eorzean common once more, Emet-Selch glanced from the Warrior over towards Polydegmon as the latter drifted closer. "I _presume_ you have delivered souls to a primal before. Even if such was not the optimal one." 

"Tempering."

"-Please-, 'tis less Tempering and more that you have fully convinced me of how much of an idiot I was when I agreed to his Concept in the first place." Pale gold eyes rolled as the Architect jostled his wife. She held up one hand defensively, grinning slightly. 

"Just making sure. Seven hells, i'm just glad that you can talk about _removing_ it. It gives me the hebejebes just thinking about getting rid've my Echo. And that's saying something, considering what I think about coming back when I get killed."

"You... Would be correct. 'Tis a simple process. One that I will begin, should the Mothercrystal agree?"

Hydaelyn hummed a note of agreement through the air, and rotated ever so slightly in place. The Warrior tugged on her Ascian's coat, before nodding out towards the empty space nearby. Hades quirked a brow, but nodded and set them both drifting out towards the floating cloud of crellbron that watched with singular focus. 

"Something on your mind, my dear?"

"Okay, well first, you're _absolutely certain_ that I won't just... run out've air while we're up here?" She squinted at him, one hand tightening it's grip on his coat until she was white knuckled. At his indignant scoff, she smiled faintly and held up her free hand in a parody of prayer so that she could nod and ask for forgiveness at the same time. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just... yeah. I've been some strange places but the literal middle of nowhere is still sort've creepy. Was wondering what was taking so long with the de-tempering thing."

He was quiet for a moment, before clearing his throat and looking away slightly. "... You might become upset if I tell you."

"I mean I can't make any promises about -that- but I _can_ promise to hear you out. Hey, look at me, please?" The Warrior reached to turn his face back towards her own, brows furrowing as he heaved a sigh. "C'mon. You know I'm worried, but you also know I won't just go away." 

"... I... _we_, sought to find a method that would work for the tempered Ascians as well, and thus do most of the prep work before and utilize my tempering as practice, so to speak. 'Tis an easy enough adjustment, there is simply the matter of practice at this point. Both She and I are reluctant to do this thing, due to it's nature."

"And you're using the fact that I want it out've your system as a lifeline to keep you focused and push past your own reluctance, but She doesn't have that." Understanding bloomed through Priscilla as she snuggled herself a little more flush against Hades, who nodded. 

"We believe She is _capable_ of such. But simply because one can do something, does not mean they will. Your propensity for neglecting to fold and put away your laundry, for example. Oh, you _could_ do so, but you never actually _do_." His words earned him a playful pout, which in turn drew from him a smirk. "We considered the potential merits of a threat-based system versus a reward-based one. However, when it comes down to it, considering her status as nigh-godlike..."

"That complicates it a bit. What all gods crave is worship, and the Tempering cements that, for all that her brand lets you more or less keep your personality. And for all that she doesn't actively seek it out." A thoughtful frown crossed her features, and the Warrior grunted. "Well, I mean I trust you, and it's something you've put your mind to. I've got nothing but full confidence that you'll be able to do this. The basis of her was _me, _after all. Freedom's something I've always been a big fan of, 'specially because I could take away people's ability to choose." 

"Oh, 'tis entirely within the realm of my capabilities. The _difficult_ part is dealing with the lethargy. My Echo doesn't exactly circle around and turn inwards to sustain itself, after all. It splinters my aether into shades of the lost and reconstructs them based upon my nigh perfect recollection of them. And nothing quite sleeps as deeply as the _dead_."

* * *

Polydegmon rubbed at his temples, fighting the headache that was threatening to bloom behind his eyes as the Architect drifted back, towing the Warrior along simply by how she clung to his coat. They shared a kiss, which he had to look away from, before she was next to him and tugging on his sleeve. 

"Hey. Seems you're done here. Let's go back to Revenant's Toll so you can rest, alright?"

"I could instead take us to another shard-"

"Could, but won't. Man, three hundred years difference and you _still_ work yourself entirely too hard. C'mon. A stiff breeze looks like it could take you out. You're no good to me tapped out." Another tug drew his eyes back to meet hers, and he was unable to stifle the faint smile that quirked the corners of his lips upwards at the concern that curled through her aether. It even survived the piercing, intent-laden gaze that Hades was leveling at him and with a resigned sigh he pulled a rift open about them. 

They touched down by the aetherite, and she gave him a gentle shove towards the Rising Stones. 

"Go on. Get some sleep."

He did. It was the most restful set of nine hours he had probably had in decades.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written in a tim hortons in an hour and a half on a cellphone. might take down later to edit and fix all the capitalization and any stray n's that take the place of spaces  
Edit: fixed a bunch of stuff

"I missed it. Once more?"

Eschaton shook his head, chuckling as Persephone stared at the two daisies. He carefully shuffled them apart and then pointed at one of them once more, sliding his finger along the stem. It split neatly into two, each smaller and thinner than their original, and he picked them up and tucked one behind his adopted daughters ear.

"That's okay, Percy. Nobody gets it on their first try. Every Eschaton has had their own specialties. Yours seems to... be..." He paused, staring at how his student had pulled the tiny daisy from behind her ear and slowly cut it apart with the small, sharp knife in her hand. Each cut failed to actually sink into the plant, for all that it still split the way he had shown her with his finger. It became two, two became four, four became eight thin, reedy barely-daisy shaped daisies before he gently placed his hand over hers to stop the process. "Percy..."

"I figured it out. its easier to think of it as a solid liquid, like a jello. The difficult part is holding the image of the original in your mind to make sure you don't lose anything, though it seems there are limits to how often anything should be split." Beneath the white mask, she wore a smile and it faltered when she glanced up to catch his unease. "... Da?"

"Every Eschston has proven incredibly adept at a select few things. Mine are shape-shifting and elemental control, for example. I think we know now why, when I hand you my weapon of office, it turns into a paring knife." A sad smile crinkled the old Amaurotines features before he gently pulled the knife from her grasp. It shimmered, crackling and growing into the shape of a raw, formless bolt of lightning before he folded it into his aether. "A tool, not necessarily a weapon. Promise me something, Percy?"

"Certainly." Her confusion was palpable, and Zeus sighed as he pulled her into a hug. 

"Don't let people know about this. This Secret is not like the others. Cellular division, chained to aetherical division, tied into the division of the very essence of a living thing..."

"People could take it worse than the King of the Jungle." The student, muffled as she was by her fathers shoulder, slumped her shoulders and wrapped her arms around the man that had raised her. "I think i understand. If people knew i could do this, they would panic."

"They would. but no more of that. There was a fishing spot not that far from here if i remember. Come now, little rascal. lets go and earn our lunch."

* * *

She technically wasn't supposed to use anything she had learned until -after- she inherited the red mask. Of course she stuck to that rule about as well as she stuck to any other, which was to say not very well at all. This, of all the things she had been taught, came easily to her. This, even more so than the secrets of shape-shifting. More than the ability to hear the voices of the trees and the elements themselves. 

So she practiced. She practiced on plants first, ones that were dying anyways so that she wasn't causing undue harm. She always asked first. They always seemed to understand. 

She only branched out to animals once, and it was with horror and two unasked for rabbits for dinner that went without question. She was more unhappy with the fact that it had -worked- than anything else. They had been identical but it was then that she had come to understand the fundamental difference between the aether inherent in flora and fauna.

She promised herself then that she would do two things. The first, was an oath that she promptly made to prevent herself from using it on any animal that was not herself. The second was to figure out how to -fix- it. 

It took decades and countless reams of flower crowns, but she managed. 

At first it was sloppy. She would flood her aether through the two pieces of whatever she had split, and vibrate them until they overlapped. The bits, she realized, wanted to stay together if they did so at the same time because the aether recognized itself and one of the universal rules would kick in to meld it back together. The longer things were separate, the more work it took but she had yet to find a time frame beyond which it was impossible. As she worked on it, she became more proficient at picking out the key points of similarity that could suction the two bits of aether together until they became whole. It took less and less for her to do so and she got better and better at making sure the edges lined up.

The first time she used it on herself was both accidental and very, very deliberate.

She wanted to stay behind. She wanted to go to the city. She wanted to keep learning. She wanted to see her -friends-. 

She was tired. She wanted to -sleep- because she had been up howling at the moon for the last week and deserved a morning to herself, dammit. Without really thinking, she split herself and went back to bed.

Both of her woke up to the sound of their father breaking down the door, and when they caught sight of each other reacted appropriately with startled shrieks and flailing. When she managed to pull herself back together she had two black eyes and learned that it split the difference when two uneven pieces were melded together.

* * *

It was a resigned Zeus that suggested she try with smaller pieces. If she was unable to keep from picking at it, she might as well work on making it usable. Waste not, and all that. He promised to be there should she need help reattaching a finger. 

She started with a pinky. Tracing along where it connected to her hand, a brief bit of focus had the equivalent aether splitting apart. A living pinky dropped down into Eschstons hand, and he quirked a brow at her as she snagged it and focused. 

Heart.

Brain.

Organs.

_-Feathers.-_

White with blue bands, the bird in her grasp was -tiny-. It looked like a sparrow, and she blinked as it stared at her and then surveyed itself. And then it promptly flew away.

"... Da?"

"I suppose you have no connection to control it with, do you."

"Please catch it while i wallow in shame?"

Zeus shook his head and chuckled even as he reached for the small butterfly net that he had brought in the event that her plan had worked.

* * *

Persephone found that, if she didn't -completely- sever something from herself, she could maintain a connection to it that allowed them both to share her intelligence and senses. The first few tries were messy, but she felt progress was being made despite the way one of her hands was now largely useless. It turned out there were only so many times she could split the same thing and put it back together before the aether began to 'forget' how it was supposed to work. By the end of a month-long break it was back to normal and she was trying again. 

After six years of research and development she was proficient enough with her ability to cut that she could use it in alternate forms. At the end, before the creation of Zodiark, she kept a flock of twenty or so for emergency use. 

By the time she split herself into three and created Hydaelyn, six remained. Three were used to ensure the survival of three members of the Convocation. One watched over Rafail from afar. 

Two, a male and a female, survived and hid from the world, waiting for the return of their source as they watched and learned and followed the course of history. But this is not their story. This is the story of the last reincarnation of the fourteenth member of the Convocation. 

It is the story of a joker and a thief, of their back and forth banter and the lives of monsters and men.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is the temperature of the void, I asked google  
2.7 kelvin, the search engine answered  
What's that in Fahrenheit, I asked?  
-454.81, came the reply  
Edit: found the name of the void-people that I done forgot existed for a hot second

"Elidibus? What're you doing here?"

The Emissary let Polite Smile Number Six faintly cross his features as he nodded towards the Warrior and continued across the room towards the bar. Quietly ordering a bottle of beer, he turned and tried not to startle at how the Warrior had soundlessly and rather suddenly come to stand right next to him. Avoiding her gaze, he started to turn towards the bar and was stopped by her hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey, you're sort've out of sorts, aren't you. C'mon. Talk to me. Emet-Selch's still with Hydaelyn and the other one's unconscious upstairs." 

"It is nothing, Eschaton-" Reaching for his beer as F'lhaminn set it down in front of him, he slowly closed his eyes as Priscilla swiped it and took a swig. 

"Ohh, I know that look. You're _angry_. Something happened." Offering his own drink out to him, the Warrior smiled sheepishly and watched as he deftly collected the bottle from her and lifted it to his lips. 

"Perhaps. What might give such away?" Taking a swig, he glanced over and quirked a brow as she turned to put her back to the bar and watch the other occupants. 

"Okay, so you move faster the higher your mood is. You went really still, so you're either pissed or miserable. If you were miserable, you would've stared at where the bottle was hoping it'd magically reappear but you closed your eyes instead." Tilting her head back to peer at the ceiling, she grinned ruefully. "When you're happy, you duck or dodge quicker and would've tried to nick it back right off."

The Emissary thought about it for a moment, before sighing softly. "... I... see. Unfortunately, as it can be stated that I am in your debt, I would be obligated to answer the inevitable."

"I mean, yeah. But you've got a bit of time. You look like you need some time to cool off before you start talking." Turning to face the bar, the Warrior helped herself to one of the bottles tucked under the counter and worked the cork out. A sniff identified it, and she licked her lips before taking a sip. "Man, this cinnamon stuff's got some burn to it..."

"How do you do it. How do you function with your primary method of dealing with a problem relying solely upon your ability to punch it in the face?" 

"Eh?" Priscilla peered at him, before shrugging. "By largely getting punched in the face a whole lot myself, really. Zenos beat you, did he?"

"I thought to perhaps indulge him and instead..."

"Things went pear shaped. Kel'louch gave me the gist of it, he's with the kid now." 

"Then I need not repeat anything you most assuredly already know-" The words, polite and smooth as ever were cut off by how the Warrior elbowed him sharply in the side. 

"Don't be like that. I know his side've it, not yours. You don't indulge yourself unless it's for a social reason or you're about to _over_ indulge. You've still got your mask on so I'm betting you're still waffling on whether or not to." She nudged him, gently this time, and nodded upwards. "Roof, and a whole basket've beers? C'mon. Talk to me."

* * *

"Your Eminence." Gaius stiffly, if politely, bowed to Zenos as the blond swordsman almost casually toed the unconscious Ascian in front of him. They stood on what had until recently been a battlefield, their airship floating close to the ground a few hundred fulms away as Garlean technicians worked to repair it. Another crew worked with the Convocation members that were slowly rounding up those of their people that would need their tempering removed, and the current Emperor heaved a disappointed sigh and sheathed his sword. 

"Van Baelsar. I expect you have good news for me regarding repairs."

"No, sir. Quite the opposite in fact. We will need to acquire the appropriate materials and facilities to replace the damaged parts. Garlond said that it's a miracle that she still flies." The gunbreaker folded his arms, eyes narrowing slightly as Zenos reached down to haul up the unconscious body at his feet. A look of concentration furrowed the swordsman's brow before a ripple of darkness consumed the body and, presumably, sent the captive to the containment room with the rest of them. "I formally request that we speak with the Convocation members and request that they send us home for repairs."

The current Emperor turned to properly face the former Legatus, sizing him up before the beginnings of a grin curled his lips upwards. "You would have us flee like cowards simply because the port engines along the aft are crippled? Come now, my Beast told me you might prove _useful_. Are the allied Ascians not ancient sorcerers, to a man?"

"We are." Elidibus brushed himself off as he stepped through a rift, politely folding his hands behind his back as both Garleans turned towards him. "However, with our numbers as few as they are, we are simply stretched too thin. We cannot hold the ship aloft, keep our captives unconscious and maintain constant vigilance to prevent attempts at escape indefinitely. Powerful as we are, we have our limits."

"Surpass them." Zenos turned away, only to pause as the ground around him briefly flickered orange and black. "You disagree with me?"

"It seems there is only one method with which to influence you with any true certainty. I simply wish to speak the language you are the most fluent in." Polite Smile Number Three eased across the Emissary's face as he gestured towards Gaius. "He speaks wisdom. We Convocation members needs must return regardless, as I have received word that Eschaton requires our assistance with a matter most pressing. Once the Ascians we have recovered are freed and given time to regain their strength, I can assure you that we will assign a squad to you to ensure you have the freedom of movement you require."

"Very well. First to strike the other thrice wins." Turning towards the white-robed Ascian, Zenos drew one of his swords and let his grin grow wider as Elidibus inclined his head politely. 

"If I manage to accomplish this feat, we return immediately for repairs and a brief rest. Should you do so before I am able to, we remain and I will personally continue to shepherd you across this Shard."

"We have an accord then, Coward." 

Zenos wasted no time, flicking the point of the blade to the side and dashing forward. Gripping the hilt with two hands, he brought the blade up diagonally as if to cleave the Emissary from hip to shoulder. He expected him to disappear, to slink away through a patch of shadow and out another, and was surprised when the Ascian instead stood his ground. 

It almost caught him off guard, in fact. He certainly hadn't expected him to step into the range of the sword and catch one of his wrists in an unusually strong grip to pull the strike aside. He let go of the sword with one hand, drawing a second and catching Elidibus across the side with it. It creased the white robes and bodily staggered him to the side before something _heavy_ caught him across the side as well with a meaty slap of a sound that bowled him over. 

Ah. An untelegraphed strike. The Warrior had warned him about those. Sometimes they were so visibly obvious that her Echo and, by extension, his Resonant simply wouldn't pick it up but other times it had to do with how such wasn't simply seen as a possible attack. Such as being hit by a pillow. 

Pushing himself up, Zenos narrowed his eyes and took in his surroundings. Gaius was pale, Elidibus was standing with his arms folded politely behind his back _waiting_ for him to get back to his feet, and... Ah. The Ascian had a shadow. How _odd_. He resolved not to step in it. Brushing himself off, he straightened himself and kicked one of his swords up into his grasp. 

"One for one, I believe. Are you ready to continue?"

"You should have taken the advantage my disorientation gave you, Coward. Instead, you have frittered away your-" The shadow under Elidibus twitched, and Zenos brought the sword up to block even as he stepped aside and braced, narrowly avoiding the scaled tail that burst out of the ground and slapped into his defense. Skidding across the ground for a few fulms, he grinned and started towards the Ascian. The tail remained, slowly sinking into the shadow that stretched outwards-

A large, feathered wing cuffed across his back and propelled him forward. If not for the way the Emissary's vessel stepped to the side, he likely would have collided with it, and as he regained his balance he realized that no, the shadow was not in fact connected to the Ascian's. It slithered across the ground, spreading like a pool of ink before two red eyes opened within the mass to stare up at him. 

"Do you yield?"

"You are covering my Resonant's ability to project the radius of your attacks with your own shadow." 

"Not at all. But that... Is a Secret not meant for you." The Emissary's vessel wore Polite Smile Number One, and didn't bother to turn to face the current Emperor as his serpentine form remained largely submersed in darkness. "I dare not waste my magic in a confrontation with you, and yet I have no vessel physically able to match your own. An idle observation."

"You are a fool if you think I will give up simply because I know little of what you bring to bear." Zenos contemplated the situation for the briefest of moments before grinning and pulling a rift about himself. When he opened his eyes, everything was... odd. He felt as though he floated, suspended by nothing as a wave of cold suffused him. But he was _there_, he was holding the in-between point where he could see the red eyes of the Emissary staring at him. Frost cracked, the sound amplified by the utter silence that otherwise filled the void as he worked to raise his arm. Aether pricked at his own, and he was forcefully ejected onto his knees a few feet away from where he had dropped through his own shadow. 

"I have seen many things over the eons, but that... was a first. You truly are _her_ descendant, to act so recklessly." A smile tickled the white-robed Ascian's tone as he knelt near the current Garlean Emperor, studying him for any permanent damage. "Or perhaps you have your great-grandfather's drive to achieve the impossi-"

Zenos twisted, one fist balled up as he nailed Elidibus square in the face. Unprepared, the vessel tumbled, rolling and eventually stilling in a sprawl as the Garlean pushed himself up and staggered over. The sword came up and ticked lightly against the Emissary's throat, just enough to draw a drop of blood before being sheathed. 

"Thus 'tis my win." The words were rasped out, and Zenos lifted a hand to his mouth as he started to cough. "Contact... Contact a Medicus. We return to the Source immediately."

* * *

"Ohh. I see." The Warrior idly inspected her sandwich, back to back with the white-robed Ascian that had let down his hood. They sat atop a flat portion of roof, each keeping watch in their own way as the Emissary added yet another empty bottle to the tower he was slowly constructing. It currently stood at three high and four wide, and red eyes contemplated it for a moment before glancing towards the basket. 

He really should slow down, he thought to himself. He _really_ should. Seven drinks in, at his best guess, nearly half a bell. A sandwich edged into the periphery of his vision, and he sighed softly as he accepted it. 

"I think the problem wasn't really a problem? Because you did the right thing." Priscilla licked her lips and brushed some crumbs off of her coat as she continued. "You were _worried_ about how someone might survive in this in-between place. And he really _does_ have really bad frostbite everywhere. It's not your fault he's an idiot."

"My mistake was believing for the barest of instants that anyone of your bloodline might be fragile." Elidibus politely set the sandwich against his knee and peeled the top piece of bread off to inspect it. Egg, mayonnaise, celery. A little bit of onion. A stray fleck of pepper. All in all, a regular sandwich. "If his vessel had died, his aetheric presence would have remained. He could have simply inhabited another body."

She nudged him with a shoulder as she shrugged and took a moment to study the sky. "You panicked though and brought him back through. That's _good_ in my books. Just 'cause a body can die doesn't mean it's pleasant to go through. Take it from experience. Still, I feel like there's more to it than that." 

"... There is. I learned the reason why he was so reckless."

* * *

"I had thought something deficient within your brain when we first met." Kel'louch drifted lazily by the window, a mere bell later. Arms folded, he seemed more amused than anything as he turned to survey the frostbitten and 'bedridden' Garlean. Two bloodshot eyes stared back at him, unamused, as Zenos cupped the lukewarm mug of coco between bandage-wrapped hands. "What, exactly, were you thinking?"

"I defeated him."

"At a cost not many would be willing to pay. Stupid of you, really. When the Warrior asked me to check in on you this isn't likely what she expected." One hand came up to cover the hole where the crellbron's crystal eye usually lingered, and a brief moment of focus sent a message through to where it currently resided instead. "You are not _that_ great of an idiot. What, precisely, is your plan?"

"She fought a god without me. 'Wounded' as I am-" Pausing long enough to sip his drink, Zenos cleared his throat and resumed rasping out words. "-I am thus exonerated from the utterly _boring_ duty of rounding up tempered Ascians. She is planning something. Where the Convocation members go, things happen, and one is now obligated to bring me to her as often as I wish."

"And you refuse to be left behind?"

"I missed my chance to hunt a primal at her side. Would you do otherwise?"

* * *

"Y'know, I should have seen that coming."

They were both stretched out on the roof, watching the clouds as they drifted lazily overhead. Elidibus was pleasantly tipsy, warmed from within and without by both the alcohol and the way his thick robes kept the worst of the weather out. 

"As should I. I have... neglected, to properly plan for a great many things."

"I keep forgetting that out of everyone, Emet-Selch's the one that's got the most practice moving at the speed I do and even then, he struggles to keep up." She smiled sheepishly, before blinking as the Emissary propped himself up on his elbows to study her. She quirked a brow and imagined he was likely doing the same behind his mask. "What."

"The Architect seems to do so effortlessly. I... have a difficult time imagining him struggling to keep pace with you."

"I mean, he does a good job all things considered but I'm pretty sure he's mostly winging it at this point." The Warrior smiled sheepishly and looked towards the sky once more. "You're all... _really_ old. Like, I mean really -really- old. Used to planning for centuries, used to manipulating an outcome over decades of tweaks and subtle work. Emet-Selch's got an edge on all've you because he's lived our lives countless times. From what I can tell, most've the rest of you haven't done nearly as much of that as he has."

"An astute observation, and not entirely unfounded." Wry Smile Number Two eased into place before Elidibus laid back down. "We have, periodically, walked among you however the Architect threw himself into his work with a fervor."

"Alright, now I've gotta ask. What did you have a hand in? Which great Empire was your baby?"

"I wonder..."

The Warrior shifted a booted foot to kick him in the shin. "None've that now, you've come this far why not just tell me?"

"It was a very long time ago-"

"Ophi, c'mon. I took your advice for what I was shopping for in Ul'dah." Priscilla grinned at him as he side-eyed her and wove his fingers together, steepling them on his chest.

"Very well. You are, I believe, passingly familiar with what is now known as the Weeping City?"


	44. Chapter 44

He could feel the eyes watching him in the darkness. It wasn't an entirely unfamiliar sensation either, considering the way Zodiark had made it a point to periodically force His way into his consciousness to try and determine what, exactly, the former Architect had been hiding from him. This time, however...

Rolling over, he cracked open an eye to squint at the window of his tiny room. _Her_ silhouette was visible as she perched on the outside, precariously balanced on the sil. There was nothing hostile about her aether, which constantly surprised him. Cautious curiosity and bitterness, yes, and she seemed -conflicted- but she had long passed the belief that he was going to simply start killing people. He would have been surprised if he hadn't intimately understood how little he had left. 

It was both comforting and _painful_ to look at her. He wondered how the acting Emet-Selch managed, before slowly sitting up. The latch to his window was rattling ever so quietly as she unlocked it and let herself in.

"Hey."

"'Tis nearly a bell past the midnight hour, Warrior. Whatever brings you to my humble quarters in the middle of the night?" Catching himself before he lifted a hand and attempted to conjure light, the Ascian shifted and turned so that he could reach the lamp. A hand clamped down on his wrist before he was able to light it, and as Priscilla settled onto the bed next to him he obligingly set it back down. "... Warrior?"

"Just-... Just shut up for a little bit, alright? I need to chew through some thoughts for a moment here." Her aether prickled, and Polydegmon settled his hands in his lap as he watched her. After a long moment of silence, she sighed and raked her hands through her hair. 

"Look. I'm... I don't know. I thought, initially, that there was one world, right? And then, I learned that there's -more-. And then things Lahabrea said started to make sense. A growing imbalance. The Doom. Does... Does Zodiark stop it, in the 'when' that you're from?"

The Ascian watched the way her aether had started to shift, jagged fragments drawing closer together before he forced himself to look away. A slow nod bobbed his head. "He did. Are you hoping that your Echo will pick up bits and pieces of that future?"

"Sort of. I've seen some of it. It seems... Pretty awful, if some semblance of peaceful. Did you lot manage to figure out a way to make sure that the Doom stopped repeating itself?" Flopping back, Priscilla sprawled and reached up and removed her mask long enough to scrub a hand across her eyes. 

"Mostly theories, admittedly. The current plan was to cultivate the world until it flourished and then sacrifice the resulting yield to Zodiark in a cycle to buy us time. It was never a particularly high priority otherwise, considering the solution." Reaching for his pillow, Polydegmon idly fluffed it and propped it against the headboard before shifting to put his back to it and stretch out his legs on an angle so as to avoid where Priscilla was taking up half of the already small bed. "It _was_ peaceful, Warrior. No famine, no strife, no conflict. The world belonged to Him. It was a series of days that repeated endlessly until they blurred together into years and decades. Those of us who worked hard in service of our Lord were blessed with the time we requested to rest and recuperate." 

"And... That's what you did? Returned to the daily life you had in Amaurot before everything went pear shaped?" Tucking her hands behind her head, she tilted her face so that she could watch him as he sighed softly. 

"Essentially. A new era of Creation began. We taught as much as we could to those that were finally Unsundered, finally _whole_. They did not age and die. The world continued to turn. 'Tis not as though it was all bad."

"No, just had a giant crystal in everyone's head making sure they all prayed to Him and thanked him for taking the proverbial colour out of everything." She grimaced, before suddenly propping herself up once more. "Oh hey, that reminds me. Okay, so Zodiark got a trait from everyone that 'pitched in' to help, right?"

"Correct. Why do you inquire?" Quirking a brow in the darkness of the room, the Ascian folded his arms and watched as she twisted to study him. 

"If he could reach into people's heads at a distance, who'd he get that from? I'm pretty sure that's not a Lahabrea, Elidibus, or Emet-Selch thing."

"Igeyorhm. 'Tis less a mental connection and more of a heart to heart, so to speak. The soul of one thing whispering or listening to the soul of another. It was one of her Secrets, that came in particularly handy when one of the Sundered Convocation members were killed and we needed to find them again."

"Riiight. Whisperer makes sense now."

* * *

"Why is everything _heavy_."

"Welcome to the Fourth, a shard primed for gravity." Polydegmon reached out to idly pat Priscilla as she rested her hands on her knees and grunted. "It my recollection is correct - and it _is_ \- many of the mortal races of this shard died off during the process. Most of the inhabitants are particularly sturdy individuals, and also particularly strong. Discounting those that slowly died out as dwarfism overtook their numbers and robbed them of the ability to properly defend themselves."

"Good thing I'm strong then. So where's the moon?"

"We stand atop it."

The Warrior blinked, before peering down. Scuffing the ground for a moment, she then glanced up at the sky and then around at the rough, rocky terrain. "Alright, I'll bite. How'd that happen?"

"Altering the gravitational pull of the Shard drew the moon down out of orbit. The damage was nigh cataclysmic, and took out what you would have recognized as Gridania. From there, although many types of flora and fauna survived, the greatest concentration of the trees that had survived the initial adjustment without breaking were leveled. Come along. The chapel is this way." A hand was waved as the Ascian turned and began to pick his way across the ground. The Warrior grimaced and staggered after him, still getting used to the difference as she caught up. 

"Y'know, watching you in the black spiky Ascian robes feels surreal. I wonder if that's why Emet-Selch doesn't wear them around me that often." 

"'Tis entirely possible-"

"Have you decided what you're going to look like? Or are you set on what Zodiark picked for features." Her words pulled Polydegmon up short, and he turned slightly to stare at her with an unamused look. 

"Considering how your husband shares my _face_, what did you expect? If I adjust this vessel so that it appears more akin to the way I wish to look, it may be seen as an attempt to undermine the careful separation you seek from us. Would that I could risk such, 'tis entirely too risky. The other Emet-Selch does not wish for me to be confused for him, for a myriad of reasons Warrior." Spreading his arms, the Ascian gestured to himself. "Why should I care what this vessel looks like, if I am denied my own face?"

"Oookay, I can see I've touched a nerve there." Wincing, Priscilla cleared her throat and then clasped her hands behind her back. "Have you considered talking to him about it and going with the white hair you used to have? Or the purple you had after that when you swapped a strand with Rafail? That would be a pretty drastic difference, and-"

"-Please-, as if that would be a great enough difference for it to truly _matter_." Scoffing, the Ascian lowered his hands and resumed making his way through the rubble-strewn path he had led the Warrior to. "We are here for a _purpose_, and I would greatly appreciate it if we could complete it in a timely fashion. You have saddled me with the secondary job of teaching the Ironworks as much as I can, after all."

"... You could have just said you didn't wanna talk about it." Grumbling under her breath, Priscilla stuffed her hands in her pockets and ambled along after him, shoulders hunched and head down.

* * *

"Little Monster." Emet-Selch stretched idly as the Warrior stepped out of a rift adjacent to the aetherite in Revenant's Toll. A wary glance and slight, if polite, incline of his head was offered to his future counterpart as Polydegmon followed her out. "Victorious once more, it appears. There are three Shards left, are there not?"

"Eighth, Eleventh and Twelfth." 

"Ohh, Kel'louch is from the Eighth, right? Halmarut was in charge of that one. Who's were the eleventh and twelfth?" Priscilla skipped her way over to the current Architect and threw her arms around him in a hug, sighing contently as he hooked an arm around her in turn. 

"Igeyorhm and Deudalaphon." Polydegmon turned to start heading into the Ironworks, lifting a hand in an idle, lazy wave as he moved and leaving the other two to stare after him. 

"... Y'know, just when I think I've got you figured you turn around and get all _weird_ on me. You're not going to waffle between subdued and cranky on me too, are you?"

"Hmm. No. 'Tis not as if I have any reason to. I believe I understand why he might be, in a word, _moody_ however. If you deigned to think on it for a handspan of minutes I dare say you might come to realize why as well." Relaxing slightly as he noted the aether of the other Ascian fade under the constraints placed upon it by the locket, Hades glanced down and smirked slightly. "Although you never know. _Someone_ has neglected to pamper me as is my due lately."

"I _know_. You've been busy with the un-tempering thing with Hydaelyn and I've been busy with coordinating and carving souls out of the other moons." Grimacing, the Warrior sighed and deflated as she leaned heavily against the Architect. "It's been a _week_. I miss both of my boys."

"Urianger is currently in a meeting in Azys Lla with Elidibus and the others. While they may dislike the interruption, I highly doubt that any would dare attempt to stop us should we pay him a visit." Tipping her chin up with a gloved hand, Emet-Selch stole a kiss and then smirked down at her as her expression lit up. 

"Ohh, I like it. Let's go kidnap our third."


	45. Chapter 45

It was simple enough to collect Urianger. They got lucky, and when they arrived in Azys Lla found out that they were taking a break between meetings. A recess, Hades called it, as they ambled into one of the side chambers and found the elezen they were looking for. Elidibus took a look at them and smiled politely, before deftly plucking the notes from the astrologian's grasp and gently pushing him towards them. 

"Worry not. I will take notes for you. I doubt you will return for the evening session."

Priscilla beamed at the Emissary, mouthing a 'thank you' before snagging Urianger by the arm and hauling him closer to the Architect. An idle wave of a gloved hand had them stepping out into their shared rooms before Hades wrapped his arms around both of them and sighed contently. The elezen and hyur echoed the gesture, and the three of them stood like that for a long moment. 

"... Y'know, never before did I ever get envious of tall folks. Yet here I am, breathing fur and leather and- Wait, _is_ your coat actually leather?" 

"A synthetic forgery, honestly. Considering I had dozens of clones in Garlemald before _you_, we had to garb them in something relatively mass-producible." A slight shrug broke the hug, before the Ascian leaned down to stifle whatever the Warrior intended to reply by simply kissing her silent. Urianger tilted his head, looking thoughtful as he eyed Emet-Selch.

"Is such thy preference?"

"Hmm. 'Tis a fabric that breaths less than what might be desired, however it is also incredibly easy to clean."

"You can just snap your fingers and clean your clothes though." Brow furrowed, Priscilla meandered over to the couch and plopped down, stretching out her legs. The Architect huffed and folded his arms, lifting his chin as he did. 

"_I_ can, yes. Solus zos Galvus the _Garlean_ however, could not and as such sought out easy to clean materials. I wanted to cultivate devotion in the populace, not bankruptcy." 

"That's fair. You _do_ seem really good at devotion. And lip service." The Warrior waggled her eyebrows as the Ascian slowly covered his face with one hand before sighing and side-eyeing her through his fingers. She grinned and then struck a bit of a pose, lips pursed and eyes partially closed as she crooked a finger at him. "I'd love to give you more practice though."

"Did you get stung by a bee while I wasn't watching?" As her expression fell, he let a smirk lift the corners of his mouth as he made his way over and then sat down. "There there, little Monster. All is not lost. Urianger more than makes up for your inability to look seductive."

The elezen in question paused in his quest to set the notes he had kept with him down on an end table paused before glancing over, raising an amused eyebrow. "While such may be technically true, our paramour possesses her own grace. Thy observation lacks factual grounding."

"'Tis grounded in the fact that when she _tries _to look seductive, she utterly fails. Hers needs must be a naturally occurring phenomena." Leaning back and stretching his arms over his head, Emet-Selch utterly ignored the elbow that jabbed him in the ribs and the coupled 'asshat' that was muttered out as well. "You and I both excel at manufacturing amorous poses and phrases."

"By thine own syntax, thou differentiates such from our paramour's unconscious gestures and movements?"

"Precisely-" 

"Okay, so what's a syntax?" Priscilla leaned to the side, before collapsing across Emet-Selch's lap. Habitually, he dropped his hands to her shoulder and side and idly began to slide his fingers along the fabric of her coat. A glance was shared between her lovers before the Ascian lifted and dropped a shoulder in a partial shrug. 

"We are saying that when you try to look seductive, you fail at it. Miserably. Utterly. _However-_" One of his hands shifted to cover her mouth as she started to protest. A smug smirk quirked the corner of his lips as he leaned slightly and peered down at her. "Let me finish, you horribly impatient little half-cracked _gremlin_. When you stop trying, when you simply act and move naturally, you are an intoxicating sight indeed."

"... really?" The word that eeked through his glove was a perfect match to the wide-eyed embarrasment that was starting to settle across the Warrior's features. A glance over towards Urianger confirmed it as he nodded and made his way over to the couch and lifted both of his hands. One settled higher into the air than the other, and he flourished both as he dipped into a particularly dramatic bow. 

"Thy dance 'pon the dusty trails, and 'cross the countless seas, hath thus my hear truly fell'd, and set me 'pon my knees."

The bow continued as he settled lower, one knee against the ground. Both of his arms spread, as if in supplication, and the Architect scoffed and looked away even as Priscilla elbowed him again and pulled his hand away from her face.

"Don't mock that. That was _nice_."

"-Please-, 'tis the second half of a syllabic stanza. Lahabrea wrote that six hundred years ago."

Priscilla snorted, before clapping her own hand over her mouth as Urianger slowly pushed himself up, brushing himself off. A slight smile had settled across the astrologian's features as he settled onto the couch next to them and pulled the Warrior's legs across his lap. "T'was Sharlayan, translated into common Eorzean. If thou believes thy attempt could be better, methinks the common phrase follows thus- 'put thy coinage where thy mouth is'." 

Emet-Selch eyed the elezen for a moment before easing Priscilla off of his lap enough that he could stand up and take a few steps away from the couch. A moment of contemplation had him slowly turning as he studied the room and then let his eyes settle on the Warrior as she shifted to settle properly on the astrologian's lap. The expectant look she shot him had him heaving a sigh before he drew himself up.

"My mind's peace is gone, my heart is sore, I shall find rest never... and never more." Clasping his hands behind his back, he half-turned to face the door and then slowly tipped his face up to gaze towards the ceiling. "Whence I have lost her, hath become my tomb, the world's vast space... A bitter place. In my poor head, doth madness start, my wrechéd mind... Is wrench'd apart."

"_Showoff._" The word was quietly muttered as the rogue grinned, delighted as the Ascian threw out one hand. 

"My mind's peace is gone! My heart is sore, I shall find rest never... and never more." Trailing off as the Architect brought his hand against his chest once more, he gestured around the room with the other, bitterness twisting his features and slowly easing into mournful longing. "I for her alone, from my window peer, lest she comes I'll not... Leave from here. Her noble bearing. Her lofty strides-"

Snapping his fingers, Hades pivoted to face the two on the couch and pointed at the Warrior, who straightened abruptily. "-Her laughing mouth, her intense eyes!"

A slight lean shifted his target, index finger leveled at Urianger instead. The elezen smiled slightly, pinking across the cheeks as the Ascian continued. "And charm'd speech flowing, from his lips, his hands' warm touch. And O, his kiss!"

Composing himself, Emet-Selch dipped into a smooth, proper bow before straightening and folding his arms. Priscilla fanned herself with a hand and then shifted slightly to glance at the astrologian. 

"Alright, maybe there's something to this fancy-schmancy poetry thing after all."

"Wolfgang van Goethe." The elezen cleared his throat, before nodding slowly as he watched the Architect meander back to the couch. 

"Correct. A Garlean. 'Tis a shame that the slow march of time took him, however I need not go into my thoughts on the subject of _aging._" A hand was waved idly before he patted his lap to invite the Warrior over. "Top that, Augurelt."

As Priscilla obligingly shifted over to the Ascian's lap, Urianger hummed and pushed himself to his feet. A few steps brought him to where Emet-Selch had stood before slowly turning to face both of them. A thoughtful look crossed his features as he nodded towards the Warrior. 

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate, rough winds do not shake the darling buds of Llymlaen, and summer's lease hath all too shore a date." Turning slightly so that he could pace in a slow, measured circle, the elezen slowly shook his head as he continued. "Sometime too hot the eye of the heavens shines, and often is it's gold complexion dimm'd, and every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd."

Emet-Selch's brows furrowed as he muttered a quiet 'Sonnet eighteen?' under his breath, and he quirked a brow as Urianger turned to face them once more and drew in closer, reaching out to cup the side of the Warrior's blushing face. 

"But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st. Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou grow'st. So long as men can breath or eyes to see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee." Leaning in to steal a quick kiss before shifting aside and resuming his place on the couch, the elezen inclined his head to the Ascian and smiled softly. "Indeed. Sonnet Eighteen."

"Not a _bad_ choice, per say, however-" Emet-Selch paused as Priscilla pushed herself off his lap and then took a few steps forward. She was quiet, for the long moment that she stood there, and two sets of pale gold eyes met before the Ascian leaned forward and _waited_.

"... I don't have much, that much is true, not looks nor wits and coinage few." A slight shrug of her shoulders preceeded the way she glanced back towards them and grinned ruefully. "But even so without all that, it's still you both I'd like to woo." 

Urianger straightened slightly, slowly lifting a hand and then setting it back down as if he didn't quite know what he had intended to do with it. Priscilla turned to properly face them both, stuffing both hands in her pockets and clearing her throat. 

"I'm rough and tough and coarse like sand, but both've you are..." Hesitating slightly and starting to flush with embarrassment as she cast about for an appropriate word, she perked up as a thought occurred to her and then gave both of her boys a thumbs up. "... _My_ demands. 'Cause I don't want land or gil or fame, just both've you to love this dame. You're _there_ for me, come thick or thin, and I'll always count that, as my win."

Standing there awkwardly for a moment, the Warrior sheepishly lifted a hand to rub the back of her head before tensing as Emet-Selch surged up from the couch and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips against her own in a demanding kiss. A startled squeak escaped her as she lifted both hands to his shoulders, and when he drew back she started to breathlessly laugh.

"I'll take it that wasn't that bad then."

"'Tis true it could use some _polishing_ but considering it seems as if you simply made it up on the spot..."

Urianger hummed in agreement as the Ascian trailed off, before gently pulling her from his grasp and tilting her head up, stealing a gentle kiss. Straightening, he cupped the side of her face and nodded. 

"Verily, 'tis thy first draft. Thine intent carries well, 'tis possessed of a largely even meter. A successful attempt."

* * *

"...Little Monster..."

The words were a grumbled complaint in the middle of the night, and the Warrior sheepishly smiled even as she winced. The three of them were a largely content tangle of naked bodies and outstretched limbs. The Ascian she had draped herself across in a bid to see if she could use _both_ of her lovers as pillows at the same time didn't bother to open his eyes, instead sighing and rubbing his face. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"You never do." The answer was a resigned drawl, and Hades shifted his hand from his face so that he could idly reach back and adjust the elezen's arm he was using as a pillow. The touch drew a quiet, sleepy hum from their third."Alas, 'tis a curse I am willing to endure provided you share what, precisely, it is that has your aether twisting so."

"You won't like it." 

"Which speaks _volumes_ of your intent to attempt alone or with help I might disagree with. Augurelt, is it not your turn to attempt to speak some sense into her?" 

"It's-Just-Go back to _sleep,_ both of you-"

"Priscilla." Urianger's voice was a husky rasp, thick with sleep before he shifted to the side so that he could more effectively sandwich her against the Architect. Exasperated, she shifted and wiggled as if to get free before they both threw an arm over her and anchored her securely between them. "I know naught of what thine awareness portends. How-however-"

The elezen turned his face into the pillow, stifling his yawn as he settled comfortably once more. "... It can wait."

* * *

She _knew_ they were watching her. There was always one in the room with her, regardless of which one she settled in. The worst part was that they were flawlessly working off each other's cues, and it was shortly after breakfast that she threw her arms into the air and gave up.

"ALRIGHT! Fine. Twelve be damned, you're worse than Y'shtola." 

Emet-Selch wrinkled his nose and set his coffee down, looking as if he was about to say something before Urianger headed him off with a look and intervened. "Thou hath a nigh impeccable track record for disappearing to attempt to take care of things in thy own preference. Pray tell, what is thy goal?"

"Okay, I've got the portrait, right? And Emet-Selch fixed it? Which means, if I managed to, _somehow_, get to the future Polydegmon came from, I could _possibly_ haul the me from then out of him, right? And then Polydegmon'd stop being so miserable-"

"Oh for the love of..." The Architect propped his chin up on an elbow as he sighed and stared at her, blandly lifting his coffee for a sip. 

"What." The Warrior folded her arms, frowning. "It's not _impossible_. You fixed me when my Blessing was all over the place." 

"Yes. While you were alive. And largely, discounting the fragmented state you and everyone _else_ still lingers in, passingly whole. Not after being torn to shreds and digested by the most powerful and eldest of primals for hundreds of years." Setting down his mug so that he could flick his fingers dismissively through the air before picking it up again, the Ascian scoffed. "We have enough problems as is, attempting to fix _our_ Star."

"I owe him _everything_, Hades. Without him, I'd've never been able to free you in Amaurot-"She narrowed her eyes as he snapped his coffee back down onto the table and pointed at her. 

"Yes. You owe him. Regrettably, _I_ owe him. And this debt will be _paid _however what you propose is to go against a fully complete Zodiark, plus the Ascians under his power, _plus_ the Star itself. Without ensuring the fate of _this_ Star. All because you, what, _feel bad_ that he's -mopey-?" 

"I want to give him _hope_."

"'Tis a fitting action, to enkindle hope." Urianger reached out under the table with a foot to idly nudge Priscilla's ankle, drawing her attention and smiling softly as some of the fight eased out of her. "Thine intent is inline with thy kindness. Wherever thou note suffering, 'tis certain that action shalt be taken. However."

"_However_." Emet-Selch threaded his fingers together as he watched her, studying the Warrior over the arch that his fingers made. "We have three Shards to sunder free the slumbering souls of my bretheren, and then we needs must devise a method with which to properly meld the Shards back into the Source. We still yet require a method with which to properly counter the oncoming Doom. We don't even know _when_ it might hit."

"I've got a way to put the Shards back into the Source, don't worry about that. But the Doom... It's going to hit within the next three hundred years." Priscilla folded her arms on the table, leaning forward and frowning. "Polydegmon said that it happened and that Zodiark took care of it again. That means it happened sometime between me dying and him coming here."

The Architect slowly lowered his hands to the table, pale as he stared at her. His voice was quiet, subdued as he tried to keep it from breaking. "... You are _certain_ of this...?"

"I am. We know I can do something about it if it gets _me, _but you know first hand how much of a hassle it is to try and get my Echo to work on other people." 

"'Tis... Far sooner than expected." The astrologian studied his tea for a moment, frowning as he slowly shook his head. "The Mothercrystal possesses the ability to devour and thus convert the Doom. Would she-?"

"She wouldn't be able to." Grimacing, Priscilla dropped her head onto her arms, and sighed. "The reason why most of the Ascian's methods didn't work was because she was actively fighting them and forcing the Shards apart. When everything's done and over with, to put everything back together she's going to die. It was never her purpose to defeat the Doom, just Zodiark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was supposed to be smut in this chapter but I seem to have written something... Wholesome?  
I recommend you look up the two poets and/or poems that were used. They're both pretty good.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book club beta (the lovely star!), we die in good company  
For Lycelle

It was surprisingly heavy, for all that it was only two fulms or so long although that might have had more to do with the intended use of the implement than any actual weight. Slender, flexible, built to be light and springy with plenty of give, she was acquainted with each part of it as they stood by the edge of the bed. She had figured that one end had been the handle, but hadn't known that the flexible tress on the end was known as the tongue or, alternatively, the keeper. It's purpose was to prevent things from being marked. 

She thought it might have been a little late for that, considering they all sported an assortment of red marks caused by each other's mouths, but Hades simply chuckled at her comment and shook his head. 

"Oh, it _will_ raise welts, but fail to break the skin. Go on. Give it a go."

And then he stepped away from the two of them and sat down in the nearby chair, stepled his fingers and folded one leg over the other. Swallowing her nerves, she studied the implement in her grip and then looked to where Urianger stood by the foot of the bed. She couldn't have forgotten he was there if she tried, but she wasn't entirely yet used to seeing either of them tied up. They were easing her into it, and she appreciated that they were being patient, but this... 

The elezen, tall as he was, had his arms stretched upwards. Wrists tied to the sturdy curtain rod of the four poster bed's with a short length of red rope. He was blindfolded, drawn up so that he could either stand on his tiptoes to keep his weight off his arms or hang, supported by the Architect's ingenuity. 

Avoid bone and thin skin. She could do that. Eyeing Urianger's naked form up and down, she couldn't help but grin slightly at the way he was hard and very carefully, very delicately, trailed the keeper along his shaft. 

"I bet you got excited just listening to him talk about it, didn't you." 

The astrologian visibly swallowed, but nodded. A muscle in his thigh twitched as he fought to remain still, even as he turned his head to better orient on her with his hearing only. She eyed him up and down before trailing the crop up his torso and tapping it against the side of his face. A glance further up brought the way his hands were loosely fisted around the rope eased her mind as she remembered the agreed upon gestures and words that would indicate _more_, _less_ or _stop_.

"The detailed description of what it can do. It's not your first time. It won't be the last, either." Dropping the crop away from his face, she abruptly caught him across the thigh with a snap of her wrist, before lifting it back up and trailing it across his chest. He hadn't so much as flinched. She marveled at his composure for a moment before tapping him on the side. "You know, I can't decide what I want more. To catch you cross the rump, or to watch the expression on your face. Best of both worlds, then. I know you can feel the bed with your leg. Turn left."

It took a slight shift, but the elezen managed it without much difficulty only to tense and let out a sharp breath through his nose when she caught him across the ass and then trailed the tip of the crop up along his back. It disappeared for a moment, only to tap against the side of his face and slowly tilt his head towards where the Ascian still sat. 

"Tisk tisk, getting close to breaking the rules there. Remember, the longer you stay still and quiet, the better your reward."

She took a moment to enjoy the way he was braced and balanced, up on his toes and the slow, measured way that he was breathing through his nose. Pacing with the silence of a practiced burglar, she swished the crop through the air to give him a hint as to where she was. Eyes flicking upwards at how the muscles in his arms tensed to accept more of his weight, she flicked her wrist and caught him once across the thigh and then twice more across the rump. 

He was perfectly immobile beyond the ever so slight rock with the impact. Eyes shifting higher, she watched as he uncurled his index finger. A grimace was stifled before she stepped nigh silently closer to the bed and swatted him a little harder across the other asscheek. 

He jumped slightly with that one, and let out a careful breath through his nose as a muscle twitched in his jaw. When she gently ran her hand over the newest welt, he shifted to rock back into the caress. An amused snicker answered his action as she shook her head and then swatted him across the back of both thighs once she stepped back. 

"You _moved_. Naughty, Urianger. You know the penalty. Keep this up and it'll be the flat of my hand instead."

Circling around so that she could stand in front of him once more, she caught him across the front of his thighs four times in rapid succession, two per, and leaned in slightly to quirk a brow as his throat worked to swallow whatever sounds he had almost made. "Ohh, but that's an idea isn't it. Alright. Tell you what. For every five swats with the crop, I'll do one with the hand. Would you like that?"

The elezen nodded hurriedly, lips curling upwards ever so slightly before she was behind him and spreading out her strikes across the meat of his rump and the backs of his thighs. Five, one after the other, and then a hand smoothed over where one of them had overlapped with a previous blow. She took a moment to study the growing pattern, before shifting the crop to her left hand so that she could briskly spank an unmarked area. 

Urianger slipped, arms taking his weight as he let out a quiet grunt before he caught himself and worked to get himself balanced once more. Shaking her head, Priscilla paced around until she was in front of him once more before climbing onto the foot of the bed so that she could duck her head slightly and kiss him. He fought the urge to nuzzle against her hand as she drew back and cupped the side of his face, her voice pitched low. 

"Steady. Still good?"

"Thou owes me one more with thy hand."

"I _do_ believe you moved." Her tone shifted from concerned to bland as she hopped off the bed, and tapped the crop against her lips for a moment as she thought and then idly turned to point to Emet-Selch. "What are we up to then, ten?"

"Eleven." Hades helpfully answered, smirking.

"So I do."

* * *

Priscilla sipped from her glass of water, watching as one of her lovers helped the other with their own drink. She wouldn't have been surprised if the Ascian had laced Urianger's water with a healing potion of some kind, considering he tended to do so when she was hurt, but wasn't entirely certain if that would have been against the spirit of the thing. Idly, she reflected on the advice he had given her before he had moved to tend to the elezen. 

_"You worry too much, little Monster. But if I may, perhaps set achievable goals and praise him while reaching them? As an example, say the goal is ten strikes. On the seventh, encourage him that 'tis almost done. On the eighth, markedly point out how well he is doing. Ninth, point out that there is but one left."_

It made sense. She was still a little worried about what they were doing but she felt like she was doing at least passably well. They were at twenty strikes, and she was starting to feel more confident about watching the way he enjoyed their little game. 

* * *

Fifty strikes with the crop, ten with her hand. By the fortieth she was encouraging him that he could take more as he clenched his jaw and took sharp, shorter breaths through his nose and by the forty ninth he had started to ever so slightly shake. His flanks and rump were dotted with welts and red marks that matched the size and shape of her hands. On the fiftieth, she had scurried up the foot of the bed and deftly untied the ropes as Emet-Selch stepped in to catch the elezen before he toppled. 

Quietly, Priscilla had set the crop aside and then pulled the blindfold free. Taking his face between both of her hands, she peppered his face with kisses and smoothed her thumbs along his cheeks as he blinked owlishly at her, eyes taking a moment to get used to the light. 

"You did it. Fifty, just like we promised. See? Knew you could take it..." 

A quiet sound came from the back of his throat as he caught some of her kisses with his lips and tried to return them, before he was set to float in the air by the Ascian. 

"Make our lover a cup of tea, will you? Bring it to the bathroom."

Priscilla nodded before she turned and scurried out, aether shifting so that she made it into the kitchen in likely record time. Her hands shook as she tried to fill the kettle with water from the tap before she set it down and grasped the edge of the sink instead. Footsteps behind her alerted her to the cloned vessel that the Architect had walked up behind her, and he wrapped his arms around her from behind with a sigh. 

"Quite honestly, I feel as though in many ways this was more difficult for you than for Augurelt. At least he knew what to expect. 'Tis you we are teaching, after all."

"I've fought primals. I've laughed in the face of death. And this is the _first_ time my hands haven't been steady while I've been uninjured." Her tone was wry as she took a deep breath and then resumed filling the kettle. "He's... He's really alright?"

"He is. I -am- with him in the bath after all, although it would not be remiss of you to bring snacks of some kind when you bring the tea." She could feel his lips as he kissed along the side of her neck and then gently nuzzled her. "Are you?"

"I think... yeah. I think I am? That was a first for me, so I'm just... I'm more worried about him, y'know? Casters in dresses don't tend to be the most _durable_, and that's experience learned and earned the hard way." Turning off the tap, she eased out of his grasp so that she could set the water to boil and then moved to the cold box to see what they had for portable food. 

"While there _is_ truth to your words by technicality, I believe this is a different type of durability. Nevertheless." He smirked, and she glanced back in time to catch it as he turned and almost lazily waved a hand. "We _are_ waiting, little Monster."

"The tea's gotta-! Ugh."

It took her a few minutes to have everything assembled, and she knew better than to try and move too quickly as she balanced everything, but in due time she pushed open the door to the bathroom with her hip and then padded her way over to where the Ascian was sitting in the tub with Urianger tucked against his side. She set everything down within reach of her lovers before starting to hurriedly strip the rest of her clothes off so that she could join them. 

"Alright, I brought tea biscuits and-hrnng, that's _cold_\- apples and the rest of the pie. There's forks, and I can cut the apple into slices if either've you want? And, most importantly, your tea." The last item on the list was the first to find it's proper place as Hades snagged it and pressed it into the elezen's grasp. As he sipped it, Priscilla shifted out a little bit to eye him critically through the water, gently feeling along the astrologian's flank. "You good?"

"Thy attempts failed to break the skin. While 'tis true that I am _tender_, I am also a healer and-"

"Uri. If I hurt you, you can damn well expect me to try and steal as much of that hurt as possible. -You- shouldn't have to heal yourself, that's our job." She flicked him on the nose, careful not to jostle his closely held tea, before leaning in to press a gentle kiss against his cheek. "He loves you, I love you, we _both_ love you, you know? Sure I can't heal but there's got to be things I can do, right?"

"I _told_ you she would insist." Emet-Selch sounded somewhat smug as he reached for the tray and snagged one of the biscuits. "I am currently cushioning him with my aether so that he might sit comfortably."

"Alright. So being a pillow's out. Oh! I could massage your arms?" The Warrior perked up, giving Urianger a hopeful look as he smiled softly. With a slight nod he offered out one of his hands and watched as she beamed and took it between her own to start rubbing her thumbs in small, careful circles along his wrist and palm. "You were hanging there for a bit at the end, but don't you worry. I'll work my way up to your shoulders soon enough."

The elezen's soft smile grew as he slowly relaxed and leaned a little more heavily on the Ascian, secure in the knowledge that everything would be alright.


	47. Shitty Snow Cone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which some things are, for the record, set straight

"Let us begin then. What -is- the Doom."

"A stagnation, innit?" The Warrior idly studied the ceiling from where she was stretched out on the couch, hands tucked behind her head. A frown creased her features. "Like water that sits too long and gets gross, right? Except it's aether. Aether that isn't circulating properly?" 

"Hmm. In part. Part of the problem is that it tends to defy proper classification, as it also acts as a corruption, a beacon, a sickness and a siphon that latches on to the fears of those it comes into contact with. It leaves a residue. It infiltrates the aether it comes into contact and spreads, akin to a contagion." Emet-Selch sighed as he leaned back in his chair, lifting both hands to his face as he tried to scrub away his mounting exhaustion. Urianger took advantage of the Ascian's shift to snag the latest paper and twitch it closer so that he could resume copying his work. "How aware are you, of what it is that you did to fix the portion within you?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question."

"When you, and I quote, 'fixed your sick', what was your process? Step by step, each thought, each allocation of aether, what was it _exactly_ that you did?"

"I... That's actually a good question. It was sort of like when I shift from being fast to being strong? Except I tapped into the sick and then just... Uhh..." Priscilla scrunched up her face, before grunting as she thought about it for a moment. "I feel like i'm missing some steps there. Because it was like I was doing that? But there was more."

"Precisely. We must needs determine what these extra steps _are_. I can hazard a guess, as I was present and have an _impeccable_ memory, however I would like to avoid missing steps in the process. With any luck, 'tis a skill that can be learned."

"I feel like Lahabrea might be able to do something similar." Sitting up, the Warrior peered over the back of the couch and held up both hands when the Architect shot her a sullen look. "What. When I was fighting him and Igeyorhm, right before Thordan, there was a lot of ice and fire being used. And he seemed to be using more... Fire... Wait I think I'm missing something."

"Any sorcerer worth their salt can cast a plethora of spells. Your modern-day thaumateurges can cast ice, fire and thunder spells and rapidly shift between astral and umbral flows. Urianger himself possesses this ability. That the Speaker chose to cast fire spells-"

"But wait, I've only seen him using ice since he came back." Frowning, she draped her arms over the ledge and tucked her chin atop it, blowing out a breath that cleared some of her hair away from her eyes. "I wonder if that's a personal choice or..."

"Something to bring up at the next meeting then. As much as I dislike him, I refuse to neglect even the smallest factor that may increase our odds." Shaking his head, Emet-Selch turned back to the desk and took up his quill, writing out what he remembered of the initial reports on the Doom from Amaurot. "Which leads me to my next point, bitter as it may be. Is it not time for you to return to Polydegmon and head to another Shard?"

"You _really_ don't like him." Hauling herself over the couch, the Warrior touched down and made her way over so that she could hug the Ascian from behind. "I wonder if that's a hate yourself, or...?"

"A curious question. Are you certain you wish the answer?" The Ascian idly lifted a hand to snag one of Priscilla's, eyes still intent on the page before him as he continued to write. She dithered for a moment, before nodding and shifting to press a kiss against his cheek.

"I mean, yeah." 

"He _failed_. He completely and utterly _failed_ in ways that I refuse to. While I am _thankful_ that I still yet live, should something manage to properly end you I would spend every waking moment destroying their lives and the existence of anything they ever loved. Zodiark _ate_ you, and he stood aside. That, my dear, is a sin I cannot forgive." The quill paused as he let out a slow sigh, before he turned enough to catch her eye. "On top of that, his feelings for _his_ timeline's version of you linger. While this is something you can freely take advantage of - and _have_, do not think your joy riding went unnoticed - should he so much as touch you inappropriately I will _very_ gladly take a theoretical leaf out of your proverbial book and rip off as many of his limbs as I can and -beat- him with the wet ends."

The Warrior blinked rapidly for a moment before grinning and leaning far enough out that she could peck a quick kiss against his lips. 

"Damn. I think I understand a bit better why you kissed me after we sent Zenos back to Garlemald that one time."

* * *

The current Garlean Emperor knew that the Warrior was somewhere within Azys Lla. He knew this, not because he had seen them or heard it mentioned, but because he had started to figure out how the Ascians communicated long distance and had caught wisps of _familiarity_ that were tinged blue. Partially bandaged, both unarmed and unarmored, he followed it back until he found a balcony and then peered upwards at where her boots hung down over a ledge. 

Nothing for it. She was unlikely to come down. He studied the available surfaces and started to nigh effortlessly haul himself up. When he drew close enough for her to properly hear his efforts, she leaned down and then tilted her head. 

"Zenos? Aren't you supposed to be on one of the Shards?"

"By the descriptions Van Baelsar gave of his exploits, one would have thought Ascian hunting to be exciting." He accepted the hand she offered when she leaned further, anchoring him so that he could twist and park his rump next to hers and study the panoramic view the Warrior seemed to have been studying. "Alas, it was not to be."

"Faced with the same problem as usual then." She offered him a wry smile before reaching up to remove her mask. "Decided against finding the biggest ambulatory thing and seeing if it had a gooey center? Or is that how you got messed up a bit."

"Ah. I followed the Coward into the hole he hides his true form within. This is... Simply an environmental effect of surviving what I have been informed was the cold void of 'in between'." Lifting his hands to air quotes, Zenos drawled and slowly shook his head. "'Tis telling, that it did more damage to me than he managed to. No, my friend, I could tell at a glance that the local wildlife would prove nigh as challenging as the red-clad pugilist."

"Lyse?" Squinting as she glanced over, Priscilla rolled her eyes as he shrugged.

"'Tis not mine to recall the names of those whom prove so inferior as to only _bore_ me, my Beast."

"Fair, but you're also _supposedly_ really smart, and I know you've actually been reading the reports that come in from the rest of the world these days with how you're actually running Garlemald proper-like." Reaching out to idly punch him in the shoulder, he glanced at the point of contact and then grinned, all teeth. 

"I am _sorely_ tempted to take that as an excuse to spar with you, Great-Grandmother."

"Aye, well maybe in a bit. I'm tryin' to do a think here." Waving her hand, she then gestured out to the expanse and clouds that were kept at bay by the barrier. "As easy as it is to go 'don't think, just do' that makes it _really_ hard to teach people how to do something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. There's this thing called the 'Doom'. It's not something you can fight? Not really? Let me, uhh... Let me start from the beginning." The Warrior nodded, before sighing and leaning back against the metal at her back, gathering her thoughts. Silent for a moment, Zenos patiently waited, propping his chin on a fist while studying the scenery. 

"The fabric of the star... Everything's aether. You, me, Azys Lla, everything's some combination of aether, right? And that very fabric, it started to come undone. And it could _spread_, like a... Like a hole in someone's shirt, caused by a loose thread. nothing needs to tug on it, before you know it you've got a bloody big hole. Except, it didn't leave a hole. It..." Priscilla paused, frowning, before slowly shaking her head. "Everything that came into contact with those loose, unbalanced threads would pick up a residue. And that spread it, so that it was starting to make holes everywhere with this corrupted aether. Everything was out of whack. People with Creation magic, like the Amaurotines, when they caught the sick it twisted their magics so that they were unconsciously spawning terminus monsters. And then, those monsters would kill them."

"But there's more. The sun got close enough to the Source that it burned everything, boiling the seas, even as these monsters left nothing but ash and death in their wake. Everything was poisonous, was... was _sick_. Corrupted. -Wrong-. Like the elementals the conjurer's guild keeps having to quell. Mad, and lashing out, causing the very land to cry out in pain. It got inside your _bones_."

"I understand you might not be the best to describe things like that to, considering that to a raider that's probably not a half-bad seeming scenario, but it took away your control. There was no way to master it, because it would just eat you from the inside out. Nobody _really_ knows how it started either, not really, but..."

Priscilla paused once more, pressing her fingers to her temples as she searched her memories, and grimaced. 

"It's like... The best way I can describe it is like a snow cone. Like someone sucked all the tasty syrup out and left just the crap tasting shitty off-colour stuff behind, and it _festered_. Because everyone was using Creation magic, and sucking out all the flavour. And it was what was left behind. How Eschaton fixed it when she pulled the sick out of people and drank it down, was she put the proper flavour back into it and mixed it all up. Sure it wasn't _perfect_, but it turned the sludge she was working with back into, roughly, snow cone material again. And it was _settled_, it wasn't making people sick so long as they stopped sucking the flavour out of it again." 

"And the events of millennia ago trouble you... why?" Zenos quirked a brow, turning to study the Warrior as she dropped her hands onto her lap and sighed. 

"Because that's going to happen again sometime in the next couple hundred years. Because it only _hasn't_ yet because they've spread out the primals they made in their efforts to shuffle the aspects of the aether in the land and the Shards. Because they've countered that stagnation with destruction and change and 'new' aether from the Shards. If I can figure out how exactly I was putting the flavour back into the snow cones I can try and teach the Ascians how it worked, and since they're basically immortal barring people _killing_ them, they might be able to do something about it without a big fuck-off primal literally re-writing the laws of the aether of the Source to stop it."

"Troublesome indeed. Somehow, I feel as though you would not accept a proposal of simply letting it happen." 

"No. I can't. If it was as simple as gathering it up and then beating the ever-living _shite_ out've it, I'd invite you to the party in a heartbeat but this essentially got almost everything extinct. There just... Wasn't anything left. They had to sacrifice half of whomever was left to empower Zodiark enough that he could bring everything back." Raking her hands back through her hair in frustration, Priscilla grumbled under her breath and idly kicked her feet. "I've used my Echo to fix the sick once already in the last month or so. I've _used_ it. But I also sort've cheated by triggering both the aether-shifting part of my blessing and tapped the portrait of who I was thousands've years ago so I could just... _do_ it. Yeah, it was risky because it was basically broken but I keep picking up memories of the few weeks I lost off both Urianger and Solus, so..."

"To do this thing costs your ability to recall?" Surprise coloured the Garlean's tone as he straightened, frowning as she nodded. 

"Yeah. There's a certain threshold I hit where if it costs a certain amount of 'power', it costs extra by way of memories. Don't... Look, Emet-Selch knows that it did in the past, but he doesn't know that it still does for certain things, okay? Can... Can you just... Not tell him that part?" Wincing, the Warrior dropped her hands back to her lap and hunched her shoulders. "Each of the _big_ Ascians have sort of the same thing, where their fancier powers incurred a penalty. For example, Emet-Selch can't directly lie. He's literally _burdened_ by the truth. Eschaton's - that is to say, mine - was that the more powerful the ability, the more memories it consumed. Lahabrea's is his temper and emotional fragility."

"I believe I begin to see why you struggle so with this puzzle, my friend. 'Tis certainly not something you can simply punch your way out of, no, this requires more finesse than that. Your reluctance to tell Great-Grandfather of the cost this elicits from you tells me that you refuse to tell him you have a semblance of a working solution. At least, until you have found a way to minimize the cost." Leaning back onto his hands, the current Garlean emperor tipped his head back and worked through what she had told him, slowly shaking his head. "Increased power at such a cost... a price many would be willing to pay. Such could be mitigated simply by a notebook or an aide that could remind you of such things as you had lost."

"Back then, it was supposed to. But because the Echo picks up memories from other people, I always just relied on those around me. I didn't like the idea of saddling someone else with that kind've a burden, but your ancestor sort've volunteered for the job before I could even think to say no." She smiled slightly at that swinging her feet and chuckling. "But that was a long time ago. Creation magic itself seems to be the problem. Anyone can do it, with enough aether lying around to bolster their efforts. It's how primals are made, after all."

"So this magic, such was not limited to the Ascians in times of Eld?"

"Nah. Amaurotine folk just had bigger fuel tanks, is all. Take what would have been needed to summon Titan when Gaius went hunting for the primals for Ultima. They had that amount of crystals and more, just as a personal reserve. I mean yeah, some had more and some had less, but..." 

"Does that not mean that their constant aggravation of the lesser beastmen has hastened the onset of this 'Doom'?" 

"It does, but from what I can tell they were stretching it out by letting everything re-settle between calamities." Grimacing once more, she glanced over at the blonde swordsman and heaved a sigh. "All this thinking's got me nothing more than a headache. _Gentle_ spar?"

He shot her a grin, and she met it with one of her own.


	48. Chapter 48

Polydegmon stared at his younger self, a mix of resignation and bitterness mirrored in their expressions as Emet-Selch folded his arms and continued to loom by the foot of the bed. 

"Oh what _now_. I was _sleeping_. You of all people should understand why I would rather resume doing so as opposed to partake in conversation."

"-Please-, all I have to do is dangle _my_ wife in front of you and you bound out of bed like an over-eager pup." Waving a gloved hand, the current Architect scoffed and shook his head. "She informed me that the Doom is nigh. Well, nigh for _our_ longevity. I need more information."

"I highly doubt such is on the horizon any time soon." Sighing, Polydegmon lifted his hands to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. "If I tell you, will you leave?"

"Yes."

"I want a concession. I want-"

"I don't _care_ what you want. You will tell me because you _failed_-"

"Failed?" The interloper from the future's voice pitched upwards as he interrupted, dropping his hands to glare at the Emet-Selch that had straightened and was now sneering at him. "You believe that, for even an _instant_, I had a -choice-? Elidibus _paralyzed_ me with his venom and it was only by His grace that I survived. A result of, and I quote, 'payment for services rendered'!"

"You should have _died_ before allowing anything to happen to her!" The Architect hissed the words out, unfolding his arms so that he could ball his hands into fists at his sides.

"And if I had, _you_ would not have the happiness you do now!" Throwing the covers aside, Polydegmon surged upwards from the bed and stalked closer to jab a finger in Emet-Selch's face. "I want to go to the _Vault_. I want to see her first form, something _I gave up_ to fuel my arrival in -YOUR- timeline, just to see her again! I want you to understand that I had no choice, just as _you_ had no choice but to watch her wither and die repeatedly, reincarnation after reincarnation!"

"I may have stood by and watched her _die_, knowing that she would return, but -YOU- essentially hand-fed each of her broken pieces to the root cause of the Sundering!" A gloved hand was jabbed up into his face in return, and the dark-haired vessel scoffed as he threw both hands in the air and turned around, stalking over to the window. "Something you _knew_ she could not return from! You do _not_ get to come into my sphere of influence and _make eyes at my WIFE__!_"

"She has been _my_ wife for longer-"

"Do you know what she said to me earlier? That she wants to find a way to go to _your_ timeline and fish out the broken pieces of herself, just so that you won't be so _mopey_." 

The words hung in the air as Polydegmon physically felt his aether freeze in place. Emet-Selch took advantage of it by stalking forward and hauling the other's vessel around so that he could practically growl into his face. 

"Do you know what I told her? The sensible thing. 'Finish fixing our Star first'. But you _know_ her. You know her as I do. So my _concession_ to you, you who _failed_ at the only thing I ever -truly- wanted, is that once we have succeeded in this thing I will throw my full support to this utterly foolish prospect. _That_, is what I will pay this debt I owe you with. Not intimate relations with _my_ wife. Not a meander through _my_ Vaults to taste the sweet, bitter draught of agonizing melancholy as we picked up the echoes of her happiness with our Memories of Those Passed. 'Tis a hare-brained scheme and a whole-hearted attempt to travel to your timeline to rescue _your _wife and see if 'tis not entirely impossible to produce a veritable -miracle- and return her to the Cycle that she might be born again."

The room was silent for a moment as they both watched at each other, one sizing the other up as they were stared down in turn. 

* * *

Priscilla idly yawned as she meandered through the halls until she found herself outside of the meeting room. She could hear the burble of the Amaurotine language through the door and understood the meanings behind them. The Convocation members went rapidly back and forth through a variety of things, from small tasks checked off (Had all of the sundered Ascians been given the opportunity to choose whether they would aid or not? Yes. How many had agreed to aid? Most of them. Had they been formed into squads? Yes. Had those squads been sent away to replace the Convocation Members that they might turn their attention to other things? Yes.) to the larger, more important ones such as who was spearheading what initiative and how much progress they had made. 

She was surprised to find out that they had a few locations picked out for refugees. Dun Scaith was hands down the favourite of the Ascians, and so they unanimously agreed that it would be there that they would 'retire'. Mhach could, after a little bit of a reconstruction effort, support life as could Ivalice once some of the more hostile wildlife was cleared out. There were estimates as to the likely destruction that future calamities might wrack those locations with, questions regarding what might be necessary to ensure each location could be a self-sustainable city-state in terms of food and shelter, and then finally those matters were laid to rest. 

The topic of the Doom had her pausing as she considered ambling off, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets as she quietly lurked. 

They didn't have a plan. Urianger spoke, clearly and crisply in Eorzean to answer why Hydaelyn likely wouldn't be able to aid them. While they all agreed that it was good that there was a sure-fire way to rejoin the Shards, many voiced displeasure at Her death; She was a primal that did not require sustenance and had been confirmed as the current gate that held back the tide of sickness that would likely soon plague their Star. 

"From my Beast's description-" The Warrior started slightly, surprised to hear Zenos speak up. She hadn't even known he was attending the meeting, though it made more sense now as to why he was in Azys Lla in the first place. Turning slightly, she leaned her head against the door and frowned as the Garlean Emperor continued. "-this Doom sounds not entirely dissimilar to the method we use to refine ceruleum. The major difference being that this does not produce such prey as corrupted elementals. Great-Grandfather, have you deigned to look into this?" 

"-Please-, as if I would have overlooked such a thing." She could imagine him waving his hand as if to clear the words away even as he rolled his eyes. "Yes this has the potential to drain crystals of their aether, as noted by the manner with which the crystals that dot the landscape grow dim and colourless after it's extraction, however it is a naturally occurring resource. Ilsabard is _riddled_ with it. 'Tis not as simple as reversing the process and all of our woes disappearing. No, our best bet is to reverse-engineer my little Monster's ability and see if the method can be replicated or spread. I already have something in the works, however a theoretical design versus a practical application are two _very_ different things."

"And if her method cannot be duplicated? Great-Grandfather, surely you see the wisdom in alternative methods."

"I have devised _countless_ methods to achieve my goals, -Boy-. Do not think-"

"I believe a brief break is in order." Elidibus' voice slid smoothly through the rising irritation in the room. "We gain nothing by such bickering, and have toiled at this for nearly two bells. I believe we also have a visitor."

Priscilla flinched slightly as the door opened, smiling sheepishly up at Urianger as he smiled softly down at her. 

"Thy disposition led us to unanimously agree that thou wouldst only find such meetings boring."

"Not wrong." Clearing her throat, the Warrior eased around the elezen to take stock of the meeting room. The occupants had arranged chairs and tables into a rough semi-circle and were seated around the outer perimeter. Emet-Selch perked up slightly as he noted her and straightened somewhat from his sullen slouch. "Uh... Hi. Yeah. I didn't really have anything to add I was just... passing by."

"While thou art present, is there anything thy might feel inclined to add?" The astrologian made his way back to his seat, setting his notebook back onto the table and beckoning for her to approach. 

"Not... Really. I mean you know I'm not well suited for this stuff. Usually during meetings like this I just sit and stay silent unless directly asked a question." Shrugging slightly as she kept her hands in her pockets, Priscilla ambled over to the table next to the elezen and leaned a hip against it. 

"Then I have a question for you." Lahabrea pushed himself to his feet, yellow eyes narrowing as he placed both hands flat against the table. "So far our options for the doom are another Zodiark, which was immediately discounted, -your- method to restore balance to the aether, or empower a single individual to primal-levels of strength and temporarily turn them into a Zodiark equivalent."

"That last one has an incredibly slim chance of success, due to how the strength required would very likely simply obliterate even the strongest singular Ascian." The Architect leaned forward to settle his elbows on the table, sighing. "I believe what the Speaker wishes to ask, in his entirely too long-winded and round-about way-"

"I want to know-" Shooting Emet-Selch a glare before refocusing on the Warrior, Lahabrea straightened and folded his arms. "-if you have had any luck with picking apart the method and determining what it might entail."

All eyes in the room settled on her, and Priscilla grimaced and hunched her shoulders somewhat. 

"I mean... Yes and no. I want to find a way to reduce the cost a bit first-"

"You have a workable solution?" Elidibus frowned faintly, smoothly rising to his feet as he stared at her through his mask. 

"Sort of? Look, it's... There's a _reason_ why Eschaton didn't go around doing it for the landscape, alright? It takes a lot've aether, and without a way to offset the cost most people might be able to maybe fix themselves but that's about it-"

"Well go on. Tell us." The Speaker unfolded his arms and gestured towards her, and all eyes turned to settle expectantly on her as she proverbially floundered. Meeting Emet-Selch's eyes, she shot him a pleading look that he returned with a quizzical one of his own before pushing himself to his feet. 

"I _do_ believe a brief break was called for. Come, my dears. Let us get some fresh air. Surely Augurelt finds this place as stuffy as I do."

* * *

"I wasn't... going to say anything about it, 'cause I just don't have a way to offset the cost but I've run out of ideas for how to do that. I thought maybe one Ascian could empower another like you did for me at the start when I was figuring out how to cut the tempering out of people, but then I realized that'd just spread the sick to two people." Sighing, the Warrior leaned back against her lovers where the three of them stood at the railing of a balcony. 

"Your Burden offset the cost, didn't it." She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Hades simply sighed and pressed one hand to his forehead so that he could rub his temples with his pinky and thumb. "... I thought as much. I was under the impression that Altima had the lion's share of it, but I suppose it follows that if even a small fragment of myself, drowning in Zodiark's aether would still be unable to lie without suffering the consequences that yours would still trigger when you hit a certain threshold." 

"You're taking this pretty calmly." Frowning, Priscilla twisted to glance at first Urianger, then Emet-Selch. They both caught her eye and then shared a look between themselves. 

"Thou art aware that we both have become well acquainted with thy person and personality?" 

"You never _have_ possessed the best ability to recall the past, little Monster. It changes nothing, considering your Echo will still pick up memories from the both of us. All that this means is that we needs must ensure that at least one of us is within easy reach of you at any given time."

"To whit, by and large something thy paramours tend to attempt regardless." They both smiled at her, and she grumbled, flustered as first one and then the other leaned down to steal tender kisses from her. 

"I recall well how _thin_ you looked millennia ago, those few times I was able to meet with you before the summoning of Hydaelyn. If you were sacrificing memories to ensure your people were safe and clean, then I can only theorize that damage to that extent was also caused by cleansing each and every living thing within the stretch of forest that you took your forces and sheltered in before Zodiark was able to re-write the laws of the Star." Frowning in thought, the Architect rested his chin atop the Warrior's head and hummed quietly. "I can only imagine that you were _recovering_ during those few moments, your Agricorps having worked hard to ensure you made new memories as rapidly as you could to replace what was lost."

"Which doth imply such would incur a similar cost for a similarly sized area." Urianger shifted so that he could wrap both of his arms around his lovers, resting his chin on Emet-Selch's shoulder as Priscilla essentially held both of them up. "Of the casters collected, the crellbron wouldst act as as a singular unit and become equal to yourself."

"Which leaves myself and Elidibus as the only other full casters who might be able to pull something similar off." Sighing, the Ascian shifted so that he could more comfortably drape himself over the Warrior while keeping the elezen partially wrapped around him. "My Burden doesn't work the same way, 'tis not a triggered cost but a constant state which gives me less room to work with in regards to increasing my own power in fits and bursts."

"I don't know what the Emissary's Burden might be, but I can tell you this much. The missing steps were quarantine, adding and then mixing. The last bit was what would break up the corrupted aether's ability to infect. Adding was to make a balance, sort of like honey in a cup've over-steeped tea to make it sweeter as opposed to bitter and quarantine was to make sure it didn't spread before it was fixed." She smiled as Urianger's arm about her chest tightened slightly, knowing he appreciated the metaphor.

"And your method heavily relied upon the stilling nature of light-based aether, both to ensure it could not be corrupted and also to ensure it could not escape quarantine." Emet-Selch closed his eyes, sounding tired as he slowly relaxed as he soaked up the presence of both of his lovers with the way they had effectively sandwiched him. "Essentially a sub-set of white magic, which certainly explains why conjurers can get rid of corrupted elementals. The corruption cannot spread if you essentially lock it down and then _kill_ it."


	49. Chapter 49

"Sssooo..." 

Polydegmon ambled along, squinting against the harsh glare of the myriad of luminescent hues of the disembodied souls that lingered about them. Priscilla stuck close, one hand gripping part of his robes as if she was a child as she stared this way and that, trying to make sense of the patterns and colours that wildly differed from each other. He could feel her curiosity, and stifled a resigned sigh as she worked to keep up. 

"You seemed pretty gung-ho about today. Came to Azys Lla and everything to get me. Did you completely rest up? Did someone threaten you?"

"What?" Pausing mid-stride, he turned and quirked a brow as she bumped into him and lifted her free hand to scrub at her face with a grumble. "-Please-, what do I have left that someone could _threaten_ me with it's well being and succeed? No, I simply wished to get this done and over with."

"You sure? You didn't so much as glare at Emet-Selch when he let you into our rooms. I'm not the smartest, but considering how much I know you both hate each other that seems a drastic change." She shifted the mask upwards enough to blink at him under the bottom edge, letting it rest on her forehead. "If he threatened you, I can talk with him y'know."

"Oh for the love of... No. I am telling you this _bluntly_ and _directly_ so that you may find no twisted half-truths. My current interest in completing my set task of shepherding all of the souls you sunder out of all of the shards of my former god has absolutely nothing to do with being threatened. I am not _motivated_ because of a threat." Shaking his head slightly, the Ascian turned and took a moment to study the gloomy terrain before starting to pick his way along the rubble-strewn path once more. "You are determined to pick and nettle me until you have determined the root of the docile behavior I displayed, aren't you." 

"I really am. He told me he'd rip your arms off and beat you with the wet ends if you so much as lewded in my general direction so I'm sort've surprised that you both were, I dunno. Polite to each other?" 

"The sooner we finish our work here on the Eleventh Shard, the sooner I can return and rest. The sooner I can return and rest, the sooner we can move on to the Twelfth. And then, from there, to the First and then finally to the Eighth." 

"I mean yeah, that tracks, but you didn't seem to be in a rush before." Shrugging, she tugged her mask back down to resume watching the aether around them. "

Seemed more like you wanted to sleep."

"I _do_ want to sleep." He paused once more, slower this time so that she had the chance to avoid running into him as he sighed. "However, above and beyond that, your intention towards my timeline was mentioned. I would very much like to see _my_ wife."

"Ah. Not gunna lie, I imagine if I'm able to dig her out and put her back together that she's _probably_ going to wanna kick your ass. I don't know everything that happened? But I know what I thought of Ascians before I went to the First and Emet-Selch started to talk proper-like with me." 

"She will be complete, which means she will have her Secrets intact and thus likely discern the truth of the matter simply by my proximity. Your Echo has a habit of picking up on memories that are relevant to whatever conversation you are taking part in at that particular point in time, which implies that all I needs must do is make mention of what happened and then _remember_ while standing in her general vicinity." Polydegmon turned and started to make his way up the nearby gravel slope, only to halt part-way up and then begin to dig. "... You _are_ right, however. She will very likely, at the very least, break my nose. I will be particularly surprised if such is all she does, and every blow or strike will have been earned."

"You don't intend to fight back. Even if she tries to kill you." Settling next to him to help dig, the Warrior split her focus between the gravel and the Ascian beside her as he shook his head. 

"Why would I? I failed her."

"Look, I don't have to watch you and Emet-Selch interact for a handspan of minutes to know that you absolutely hate yourself, but if I could give you some advice?" Shaking her head as she shifted so that she could better dig, Priscilla wiggled her nose and flicked a particularly offensive piece of gravel aside. "Wanting to die isn't going to do anything but make her angry. Atonement means you've gotta be alive to actively work on it, yeah?"

"You are perhaps the _only_ individual I would accept hearing that from. But I digress. You are perhaps wondering why I delivered us onto the Shard itself, as opposed to the moon."

"I really am."

"Behold." Gesturing to the purple-black crystal they had slowly begun to uncover, Polydegmon shifted to the side and resumed digging as the Warrior nodded slowly and mirrored him. "I would advise caution. 'Tis a little larger than an Amaurotine citizen, and for good reason."

"Would that reason be because there's an Amaurotine Citizen inside of it?"

"Correct. In my timeline, I learned that Igeyorhm had happened across one of the Convocation members after he had been mauled by some of the vaunted 'heroes' of the Thirteenth. They gorged themselves on his aether, and she sheltered him here to allow him time to recover. He never was the same when he awoke, however I believe you will need all the help you can get." Scuttling further down, the Ascian started to uncover the legs before reaching to grasp part of the crystal and start to lever it out. Priscilla brushed her hands off before scooting up to the top of the crystal and hauling on it, working it further out of the gravel bank they had partially excavated it from. 

"So this is a Convocation member, then? Which one?"

"Deudalaphon. The old goat was always tough, however Igeyorhm failed to recover him before this Shard melded with the Source. This worsened the damage, as opposed to lessening it, and as such I feel that should we recover him and return him to her care she might not -forget- him this time and actually finish healing him."

* * *

Crystal bearing the Convocation member grasped in one of his larger hands while he carted his vessel around with the other, Polydegmon's less restrained form drifted through the vacuum of space. Priscilla was hoarded against the large red mask that dominated his chest with his more humanoid arms, and she maintained a vice-grip on his robes even as they neared Hydaelyn. Passing through the cloud of crellbron that kept constant watch, she shivered and tried to avoid looking out into the star-spotted nothingness that otherwise occupied what passed for their current sky. 

**<<Oh come now. 'Tis not all that bad. There was a time when you enjoyed flying through the thinner atmosphere simply to get closer to the stars.>>**

"Look, Elidibus kidnapped me to the moon once and I popped the bubble that kept air in and then _died_ twice in rapid succession. I froze the first time, and the second it was because I didn't have _air_ and the only reason I didn't die of being frozen again is 'cause my Architect finally found me and caught me." Shuddering at the memory, the Warrior huddled closer to him and tucked her face against the large red mask. "I thought drowning was bad? No. That was _fine. _Space _sucks_."

**<<... I didn't know. Once he started to spend more time with you, I drew back and kept my monitoring to a minimum.>>**

"It's alright. Just, y'know, don't let me go. Because drifting weightless is a _thing_ that I don't like." 

**<<I have you, Warrior. Fret not. We have arrived. This will take but a moment, and then I will ensure your feet are back on solid ground again.>>**

* * *

Elidibus was waiting for them when they stepped out of the rift and onto the designated balcony of Azys lla. She didn't have to be able to see his aether to tell something was particularly _wrong_, but the way the velvet darkness of him had largely obscured any of the red glow she had come to associate with his aether (something she believed Zodiark had inherited) made her think he was somehow terrified. 

His smile, she saw once she lifted her mask, was _perfect_. That was the second clue she had that something was horribly wrong. The third was that neither Urianger nor her Emet-Selch were present to greet her. 

"Eschaton." The Emissary inclined his head politely, voice as smooth as ever. As he straightened, she stepped up and leaned in, invading his space and squinting as he belatedly leaned back. 

"I knew it. Something's wrong. What's exploded?"

"Nothing, yet." Clearing his throat as he stepped back, Elidibus glanced towards Polydegmon and swept a hand out towards the doorway. "The Convocation wishes to speak with both of you, however. With your permission, I am prepared to bring all three of us to the meeting hall."

She glanced up at the Ascian she had traveled there with, frowning as he slowly nodded and set the crystal encasing Deudalaphon to float along behind him. Shrugging slightly, Priscilla nodded to the Emissary and strode through the rift he opened. Stepping out into the meeting room, the Warrior fought the urge to lift her hands to her ears to block out the ranting litany of multi-lingual, colourful cursing that spewed forth from the Speakers mouth as he paced irritably in circles. 

"I'm stealing some've those, Lahabrea."

He cut off mid-word and glanced over, only to snort and toss his head. "By all means, Eschaton. You may even feel the need to use them soon."

"Oh?" Quirking a brow as he strode over and then past her to come to a halt before Polydegmon, the Warrior watched as he narrowed his eyes and stared at the dark robed Ascian that had accompanied her.

"Little Monster." Her pet-name drew her attention away from how the Speaker was sizing the older Emet-Selch up, and she perked up as she made her way over to where her Architect was sitting draped in a chair. 

"Hey, you look beat to shit. What happened?"

Reaching out to pull her sideways onto his lap, her Emet-Selch sighed and wrapped his arms around her as if to take solace in her presence as the Speaker turned to address her question. 

"Nearly half a bell ago, an unidentified rift began to form over lake Silvertear. I have only ever seen Elidibus lose his composure once before, however we all felt his panic and answered his instinctive call to find him barely holding it shut even as it continued to grow. It was only after the fact that we discerned that the aether that was forcing it open from the other side was his own."

"Save that he was not, in fact, opening it as he was the individual that called us to aid him in keeping it closed." Halmarut stirred tiredly in his chair, before sighing and continuing. "We believe it may have been the first of what will likely be many attempts to breach from Polydegmon's timeline into ours."

The Architect settled his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes, rocking slowly from side to side. "We believe thus due to the fact that it took Elidibus, myself, the Weaver and Mitron to force it shut and keep it that way until it began to subside. For all that it lasted perhaps a handspan of minutes, it was undoubtedly his aether attempting to come through."

"Did you talk to Kel'louch about their Lock? Maybe see if it might be something we can do on the Source?" 

"We believe that, should we set the stage accordingly, we might be able to simply transfer their Lock to the Source. However, this would require the triggering of a Calamity and the resulting Rejoining. At that point, we decided to await your return, considering your stance on the rampant destruction that such tends to incur."

"There is also the fact that should the Eighth Shard rejoin before the others, it may make the rest of them more difficult, regardless of the Mothercrystal's goodwill." Igeyorhm glanced over from where she was stretched out on the floor, hands tucked behind her head. "... Is that Deudalaphon?"

"It is." Polydegmon inclined his head slightly and sent the crystal drifting over to the Whisperer as she slowly sat up. "He was maimed in my timeline, perhaps in this one you can heal him properly."


	50. Chapter 50

"Okay, I've got it." The room quieted as Priscilla looked over from where she had been pacing in circles. "Emet-Selch, Polydegmon, you've both seen enough of me cutting the souls out of the shards of Zodiark, do you think you can replicate that?" 

Those addressed shared a glance, before the Architect frowned and slowly nodded. 

"To a degree. Certainly not with your speed, which increases the odds of that particular fragment awakening before the process is complete." 

"Right. I've talked to Zenos about it, and he might be able to do something similar if he inherited it. I don't think he's tried, so that might be worth looking into. In the mean time, i'm going to stick to the Source with Elidibus so that the next attempt that he senses, he can bring me along and I can slap the next rift and pull it apart until we come up with something better." Looking towards the Emissary, she tilted her head to silently ask if that was alright, to which he slowly nodded. "That means, though, that the rest of you need to work harder on anchor points to pull the Shards back into the Source with Hydaelyn's help. Mitron, I want you to spearhead this effort. Travel's sort've your thing, so if anyone can make it work smoothly it'd probably be you. Igeyorhm, try and get Deudalaphon up and running, and pair off with Emmerololth to see if the two of you can't find the rest of the missing Convocation members. Who're we down?"

"Deudalaphon and Nabriales. We have everyone else." The Water-Bearer looked towards the Whisperer, and both shared a nod before moving to stand beside the crystal that drifted through the room. "Don't worry. Hydaelyn willing, we should be able to find the sundered Physician-"

"Wait, Nabriales was the _healer__?"_ Priscilla stared at Emmerololth as the Ascian stared back and slowly nodded. 

"Of a sort. Where Igeyorhm had the important task of ensuring the soul remained hale, Nabriales' official duties included tending to physical maladies." The Water-Bearer smiled slightly, before shaking her head. "Most medical substances are poisonous, if taken in the wrong dosage after all."

* * *

"I've got a question for you."

Hades hummed idly from where he was stretched out on the couch. His little Monster made her way over from where she had been idly cleaning one of her curved black swords, and idly tapped the flat of the weapon against the arm of the couch. 

"You wear the same thing all the time. Have you ever thought of maybe wearing something else?"

"I thought you _liked_ the coat. Tisk tisk. Whatever brought this on?"

"I was thinking about the Gold Saucer, honestly. I really should head over there sometime soon, if only for a bit've a break from all this work. But then I thought about the scantily clad women there, with their fishnet stockings and the big ears. And then I got bristly for a moment because they're all good looking, and while I'm not _lumpy_ any more-" He eyed her, slowly quirking a brow as she floundered before she cleared her throat and continued. "I mean, I was sort've thinking you'd stare at them and while yeah you'd be right to I'd prefer it if you stared at me? But then I thought about staring at you, and then I thought about staring at you in fishnet stockings..."

"... Little Monster."

"Eh..." She looked away, unable to keep a straight face at the utterly deadpan tone and expression he aimed at her.

"Am I to understand you find the thought of _me_ in fishnet stockings and heels _enticing?_"

"I wouldn't- I mean, you'd wear them better than _I_ would, alright? And the thought was funny. But also made me think you'd probably look good in _anything_. And I mean -anything-. You've got the grace to pull it off." Mumbling now as she poked her fingers together, the Warrior startled slightly as the Ascian abruptly draped himself over her and sighed, arms hanging down over her shoulders. 

"A learned, practiced grace. I have worn similar in the past. While I do not personally have a bias for or against fishnet stockings and revealing rabbit one pieces, I highly doubt such would allow the rest of the Convocation members to take me seriously. 'Tis an unprofessional look outside of the entertainment industry." 

"That's fair. Meeting's over though, isn't it?" 

* * *

Elidibus sat in his rooms. 

Distantly, he could feel the aether of the others as they cycled through emotions. Emet-Selch was smothering his distress with mild amusement at whatever antics Eschaton was putting him through. Lahabrea was with Igeyorhm and Emmerololth, all three of them concerned and thus likely trying to figure out ways to put whatever they could find of Nabriales back together, hoping they could learn something from how both Speaker and Whisperer had returned. The former had _help_, but the latter had been shattered with auracite. She wasn't supposed to have been salvageable. Hydaelyn's involvement was suspected. 

The others were varying degrees of worried and afraid. He didn't blame them. He was too. 

It had been a stroke of luck, that the Emissary had been able to detect the opening rift. At first he had thought he was imagining things, but then he had gone to check it out and found his own aether acting without his guidance. Upon investigation he immediately realized that, yes, it was his own magic but there was more. A depth. A strength that he lacked. A resonance that then opened and a familiar voice that tickled the edge of his consciousness. 

_Him._

His polite mask had cracked, and underneath it Ophiuchus opened his mouth and shrieked in absolute terror that rang out through the aether around him. There was no thought, no reflection upon his actions, only an understanding that if that hole opened wide enough for anything to come through properly, he would be the first to die. It was a promise, a tickled suggestion that had brushed across his aether and sent him on the offensive like a cornered animal. He reached for his aether and abruptly understood how Emet-Selch had once managed to hold all of them at bay when he clawed a portal open and attempted to get to his wife. 

Desperation. It lent him strength. It fed the saved, stored power he had at his disposal and dumped all of it into his current casting, regardless of what it would do to him later. Every scrap of his being had been thrown at the slowly widening rift and it had halted abruptly as his utter terror rang out around him. The next thing he had known, Emet-Selch was easing him into his vessel and double-checking their work. Lahabrea divvied up who would monitor it, who would rest and who would act as a reserve while working on other things. He had insisted he was okay, but after the meeting...

He felt _raw_. Not quite as bad as when he had awoken on the table, _reassembled_ by the Architect, but exhausted in ways that spoke of dangerous things for his longevity. He was dazed, and absently realized he was having difficulty focusing on any one thing for more than a few moments. Belatedly, he understood that -this- was what was meant by the phrase 'burning one's candle at both ends'. 

The quiet promise of the retribution for his betrayal flit across his thoughts once more, and his vessel physically jerked as if it could lean out of the way and let the thought pass him by. He was in no condition to monitor anything. He would require time to rest and recover, to re-order his thoughts and carefully cultivate the control that he was known for. 

Elidibus stared blankly at the wall, knowing he simply did not have that time. What was the point then, he thought to himself. If he was doomed to fail-

The Architect's aether lit up with joy, echoing the uncensored glee that emanated out from Eschaton like a beacon and briefly pulling the Emissary from his sluggish thoughts. A partial gesture slid him through the aether, some part of him recognizing it as a bad idea before he stepped out to find the Warrior sporting a headband with rabbit ears as Emet-Selch loudly complained about the heels he was wearing as he adjusted a large bowtie at his neck that complimented the rest of the outfit that was largely fishnet and a body suit. At his arrival, the words died in the Architect's throat before a brow was slowly raised. 

"I could have _sworn_ I had wards up to prevent this manner of interruption."

"Heya Ophi. Ohh, y'know what I bet that looks not half-bad in white, too." Eschaton lifted a hand and waved at him, before slowly stilling as she took stock of the Emissary. "You, uhh... You look a bit rough there."

Anger flashed through him, and he barely managed to stifle it as he slowly turned to stare at the Warrior. She swallowed slightly, wincing before clasping her hands. 

"Oookay. I think I-"

"I came to inquire after your plan. Surely, with such jocularity, you must have one." He was proud of the way his voice was soft and level. Utterly mild, in fact. He noted each of the several emotions that flashed across her face as she glanced over towards Emet-Selch. Concern, confusion and acceptance. Determination. Minor amusement. 

"You bring me to whatever new rift opens and I Sunder it so that it doesn't work. Buys us the time we need to figure out a better solution."

"I see." He did not, in fact, see. Some part of him was annoyed that they had the gall to play around without doing anything to find an answer to their collective problem, and he held that emotion in his aether as he reflected on whether or not to smother it. It would not serve him, he decided, and crushed it. "They will know I am searching for them. What is your solution to the potential alternatives to the type of rift that was used last time?"

"Find it, stab it, buy time."

He was certain he had failed to keep a straight face with how polite smile number one felt like it was twitching slightly. "... I see. Is this how you intend to resolve all future issues?"

"Oh for the love of..." The Architect rolled his eyes, before focusing on the mirror in his hand so that he could resume tweaking the bow around his neck. "Elidibus, you are exhausted. Go and get some rest-"

"-So that you can continue to ignore the issue at hand?" The Emissary turned to properly face the former Garlean emperor, who lowered the mirror and fixed him with a _look_ that was mildly ruined by the attire he was wearing. "It is unlike you, to neglect your duties-"

"Ophiuchus." His name jolted through him, and Elidibus startled slightly as he turned to stare at the Warrior. When had she come so close? What was that expression on her face? Her aether was touching his, and he could feel... 

_Peace. _

She smiled, before reaching up to push his hood back and then ruffle his hair with one hand, even as the other pressed a bottle of beer against his chest. 

"Sit. Drink. Despair does us no good. It's bleak now, but we're working on it, alright? You held the first one shut practically on your own. That's gotta be exhausting. It's not just your aether that's stressed, it's your mind and your heart. You've suffered a shock, and that's okay. It's _normal_ for you to be all over the place when faced with something magnitudes stronger than you. Think about every normal person who's faced a primal before, alright? This isn't so different. You looked your death in the face and survived. That's a _big thing_." 

She corralled him onto the couch, and he hesitantly took the bottle and stared at her as she reached forward and removed the cork. 

"_Drink_, Ophi. You're still panicking. Focus on the tactile things to ground yourself. We'll figure it out, alright?"


	51. Chapter 51

The beer was surprisingly good, when he focused on it. Chilled from it's time in the 'coldbox' that any technologically inclined individual would call a fridge, it was dark and the taste of it settled across his tongue pleasantly. Elidibus took to absentmindedly using one of the claws of his glove to pick at the edges of the label naturally even as his attention wandered his surroundings. 

Emet-Selch had transmuted some unimportant items that had been lying around into another pair of heels, and gave advice to the Warrior as she wobbled across the room with her arms outstretched for balance. She periodically asked for demonstrations, which (coupled with a sigh) drew the Architect up off the couch so that he could strut across the carpeted room. It was all in the toes, apparently. 

The Emissary took another drink, and slouched a little further into the couch. It was almost _criminal_, how comfortable it was. He found himself proverbially drifting before he caught himself and straightened, only for Eschaton to come over and drape a thick blanket over him. Her aether clumsily prodded his own, and _peace_ flowed through him once more as he settled. There was a dim realization that she was using one of her Secrets, but it was lost to the warmth that surrounded him and lulled him into relaxation.

_"Well now. What are we going to do with him, hmm?"_

_"No idea. I hate to move him after all that effort to get him to rest. And I dunno how long it'll last, either." _

Dimly, he was aware of the way a pillow was tucked partially under his head, partially over his shoulder. There was a sensation of being turned, before he cracked an eye open that he hadn't realized he had closed and blearily watched as Priscilla smiled sheepishly and pulled his hood down a little further. He managed to make a quiet sound of protest before he felt her fingers pet along the top of his hood. 

_"It'll be alright, Ophi."_

_"Should I be jealous, little Monster?"_

_"Hah! Only if it means we break another chair the way we did when we set the room on fire."_

He missed whatever rebuttal the Architect sassed the Warrior with as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The Warrior ambled around Azys Lla with a mostly empty beer held loosely in one hand, pondering her options. 

For all that he had spoken from a place of suppressed panic, she figured that Elidibus had a _point_. She couldn't be everywhere at once, and she had little to no idea as to why it had - from her perspective - taken so long for them to open a rift from their time to hers. It had been proven that time moved differently between the Shards and the Source, so maybe that was making it difficult to pin down a proper exit point but if they found it once, they could do so again. There wasn't exactly anything to stop them from picking the same time and opening two rifts, one that she slapped and another elsewhere while she was distracted. 

She had to think of something better. A little difficult considering she wasn't exactly a specialist when it came to aether or magic, but she liked to think she at least had some of the basics down. Aether was essentially energy. Everything stored it in some way, shape or form. It could change-

Priscilla paused, one thought interrupted by another as she considered Hydaelyn. The Mothercrystal was currently holding a large mass of the Doom, and was slowly working Her way through changing it into something safe to return to the Source. It had been proven that she could do the same, quarantining it with her own aether without even realizing it for years. Maybe she could make Zodiark _eat_ her and explode the Doom within him before cutting her way out. 

An entirely unladylike snort echoed in the hall around her as she shook her head. Maybe the primal would just drop dead of His own volition too. Probably had a better chance of happening. No, the safer bet might be to see if Hydaelyn could apply the Doom to Zodiark if He managed to come through. 

Sighing as she finished the beer, the Warrior raked a hand back through her hair and then dropped it to her side, drumming her fingers against the hilt of a sword. So many problems, so few solutions. If only she could solve some by applying the others. 

The remaining fragments of Zodiark, the incoming completed one coupled with the Ascians that were inevitably going to tag along for the ride and the upcoming attempt to gently shuffle the Shards back into the Source. Hydaelyn's upcoming End. The Doom that yet lingered within Her. 

She was _certain_ she was forgetting something. Mentally running over the list once more, Priscilla shrugged and shifted a hand to idly touch the thunk of crystal strapped to her forearm. Whatever it was, she would doubtless be reminded of it before long. With Urianger and Hades around, the prospect of _forgetting_ seemed far less of a burden than it plausibly could have, and as she resumed her aimless meander down the hall she did so with a smile on her face. 

Raised voices through the open doors of the meeting hall caught her attention, and the Warrior made her way over to blink and peer at the way Emmerololth seemed to have thrown her hands into the air in frustration. 

_{{Why is it that every time anyone attempts to reason with you, you decide everything must be done your way!?}}_

_[We all prepared defenses against auracite after we learned of Nabriales' demise. Such is the only reason Igeyorhm was anything resembling herself when she was found! If we want to find the Physician, then we must needs-]_

"Everything alright?" Priscilla leaned on the doorway, quirking a brow as the burble of the Amaurotine language ceased and all eyes settled on her. Raising a hand, defensively, she smiled and gestured to the door. "It, uhh... It was open." 

"Because I was about to leave, Eschaton." Lahabrea inclined his head politely, before turning to look at where the Whisperer was partially hunched and seated at the table. "Nabriales may be beyond salvaging, but I intend to take Igeyorhm and see what might be done. We have as of yet failed to theorize a plausible method of recovering him beyond simply finding him and telling him what he really is."

"If some strange man in black robes walked up to you and said you were the soul of an ancient sorcerer of eld - when you are a child, no less! - you wouldn't believe him. You would _run_." Folding her arms, the Water Bearer grouched and looked towards the Warrior. "Tell him. You understand it better than he does, don't you? Even if you weren't that young when you were first called the Warrior of light."

"I mean, my Blessing was more've a curse and kept slapping me with flashes of people's shitty pasts, but yeah I'd've probably been really weirded out if someone came up to me and said I was an Ascian." Noting the way the Speaker's face was crinkling into a rebuttal, she held up a hand. "-However- I think the point Lahabrea's trying to bring up is that we can't just sit around and do nothing. We need him. He -is- basically a baby at this point, though, and he was Sundered like Igeyorhm. He won't have the extensive power that you did, Speaker, running wild and in need of corralling and training right off the bat. He's going to be _ordinary_." 

"But he's still our Nabriales." The Whisperer spoke up, slowly lifting her head to peek at Priscilla even as she frowned. "It's not right without him. And maybe... Maybe similar to your Echo, I can help him remember things." 

"The Echo breaks down the barriers between souls. But souls never really _forget_ the important things." Making her way over to the table, the Warrior hopped up and sat on the edge so that she could swing her feet as she thought. "Igeyorhm, you got your memories back because Lahabrea carried them from Hydaelyn, right?" 

"You are thinking your Mother might yet retain the memories of the Physician." Lahabrea stepped closer, frowning thoughtfully as he narrowed his eyes. "That might work. As much as I hate to rely on Her for anything considering her current fragile state, I will go and speak with her. Know you how she fares, beyond the latest reports?"

"Still going, the crellbron are doing... something." Scrunching up her face as she wiggled her nose, the Warrior shrugged and then went back to idly kicking her feet. "They're basically immune to the Doom, apparently, so they've been working on both bolstering her strength and helping her convert it. Something about their containers being aetherically stilled, though I couldn't make much sense of it. They're not Lightwardens, and that's all that matters to me."

"That _would_ only serve to complicate things." Emmerololth sighed as she leaned a hip on the table. "We have Deudalaphon. Igeyorhm has done what she can for him."

"He just... needs more time." The Whisperer lowered her head, studying her hands for a long moment before abruptly reaching out to tap Priscilla on the hip. "Do... do you hate me...?"

"Eh? Oh! You're- Oh. Twelve, no. You were tempered, and I mean it's not like after you got killed that you came back and started messing everything up again. You're alright, y'know? You've been a big help." The Warrior smiled down at Igeyorhm, watching the way some of the tension eased out of the Ascian's shoulders. "I really mean it. Yeah, I'm still a bit sour about the part you played with Thordan and them, but... Well, let's just say that hatchet's already been buried. Don't let it weigh on you like the Thirteenth does."

"You... you know about that, then." Swallowing slightly, the blue-haired Ascian folded her hands in her lap. 

"'Course I do. But, y'know, that was everyone's first attempt, right? That means there wasn't really a whole lot to warn you against it. So chin up, alright? Keep moving forward, and we'll get everything set to rights together."

* * *

Zenos eyed the rather plain looking individual before him. It was, allegedly, a version of his great-grandfather from the future. Dark hair, dark eyes, a Garlean third eye that proclaimed the heritage of the vessel the Ascian wore and the fancy robes that the aetheric beings tended to project onto themselves. No mask. He thought for a moment that it might have been because the mask _technically_ belonged to the Solus of the current timeline. 

Three hundred years of a difference. He wondered just how much stronger that had made the man studying him quietly from the doorway. Likely not enough to make a _difference_, and with that thought the blond swordsman idly flicked his fingers as if to dismiss the thought. 

"Great-grandfather."

"Great-grandson." Polydegmon wrinkled his nose somewhat, only to sigh and rub rub the bridge of his nose. "I will get to the point. Did you inherit Pers-Priscilla's ability to sunder people?"

"Cutting people into weaker, still living morsels is not something that has ever had my interest."

"That was not my question-"

"I'll not stand aside and watch you _bungle_ this. Clearly you have forgotten how my little family works. Zenos." Emet-Selch waved a hand idly, stepping forward and rolling his eyes. Dressed in his Garlean finery, the Architect folded his arms and eyed the reclining Emperor where he sat on his bed with a book in his lap. "Your great-grandmother thought you might be able to fight a fragment of my former God. _I_ don't care if you can or cannot sunder the souls out of Him considering with time we can mimic the effect, albeit slower, but she seemed to think you might be able to fill her proverbial shoes. Whether you have the finesse required to do so or not, in the event that things go pear shaped she wished to offer this Hunt to you."

"Ah, the first eikon." Marking his place in the book and setting it aside, blue eyes met pale gold as Zenos slowly grinned. "A chance to fell this creature that supposedly proved stronger than me, that controlled me as I controlled Shinryu. Repeatedly, at that."

"She told you, then."

"My Beast tells me many things." Swinging his legs off the bed and standing, the blond swordsman surveyed both of the sorcerers before him and let his grin go feral. "When do we begin?"

"Zodiark's Mercy, he really _is_ just the way she used to be." Polydegmon rubbed his temples for a moment as he nodded towards the armor draped about the stand nearby. "As soon as you are dressed."


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very short little drabble starring a character I find difficult to write

Solus waded through the mud, grimly reminding himself that _no_, it would have been out of character to float over it instead. A squad of six people worked hard to keep up, each one of them utterly loyal and absolutely trusting in both his strategy and his almost unnatural awareness of the battlefield around them. The main army clashed with the opposing forces around them as they meticulously worked their way further through enemy lines. To the casual observer, it might have seemed that their path was an almost random meander, but in all honesty... 

The Ascian cursed under his breath, hunkering down as an explosion rocked the landscape nearby and hearing the muffled sounds of the others in his squad doing the same. He felt like he was chasing a lost mutt that some handler had failed to train properly. A glance through the aether picked out the bright point of blue further ahead and grimaced as he surged forward to try and catch up. 

Six bodies hauled themselves up and followed him, remaining in as perfect a formation as they could considering the rough terrain. 

He should have known. She _always_ did this. Every time he brought her onto the battlefield he spent more time chasing her and less time managing his own forces, let alone minding his own strategies. He was going to get hauled into the Command tent and torn into by the Legatus. With any luck, he could counter it - yet again - by presenting the head of some powerful individual. 

Soon, he could replace the utterly foul man. He was far too wasteful with his resources and disliked the way the up and coming Galvus was gathering support. With _her_, it wouldn't be hard at all. He just needed a -legal- reason to do so to ensure his position remained secure. 

Speaking of _her_...

Stooping to haul an arrow out of a corpse, Solus shook his head and tucked it into the quiver that hung from his waist with the others. She carried eighty, and that one made sixty. She would be switching to defensive tactics soon, if she hadn't already, which meant they would have more of the lesser fragments to clean up as she killed less and sneaked more. 

"We're gaining. Come, tonight the city-state of Cairin ends, and we add it's might to our glorious Garlemald." 

* * *

A back flip would have been extra. the Wraith considered it but simply turned and leapt instead, clearing the hole in the center of the floor. As she touched down, she spun and took aim only to twist, stumbling back as a short sword came ahead and dug into her side. A council of eight had served as a government, and while two of them were now dead she was starting to think she might have bitten off more than she could proverbially chew. 

The hyur with two blades came at her again, scowling, only to abruptly vanish from her field of view as a heavily armored form hit him with the force of transport vehicle. The Medicus that had followed Solus hurried to her side, and she sagged back against the pillar she had found herself backed against as potions were produced. Laughing breathlessly, Aileth accepted one of them and drank it down as she watched her Solus weather thaumaturges fire and arrows alike. 

"What took you so long?"

"I stopped for coffee-" She almost spat out the last mouthful of the potion, clapping her other hand over her mouth and forcing herself to swallow at his dry, mild tone as it was interrupted by a grunt. The enemy lancer had managed to get the point of their spear past his guard and into a gap in the outer armor, though by the way Solus simply readjusted his stance and lopped the tip of the pole arm off, it certainly couldn't have hurt him very much.

"Did you get the receipt?" Shooing the Medicus away, the Wraith took the opportunity to knock her last arrow and then spin to the side, firing it into the enemy thaumaturge's ribs before swiveling and taking cover once more behind the Tribunus Laticlavius that had come to rescue her. 

"I did. And I got one for you too." Muffled thunks marked the arrival of the latest volley of arrows from the enemy archer as they met his shield and stuck. Solus took a moment to sheath his sword in the lancer's stomach so that he could free up a hand and unclip the quiver hanging from his belt. Tossing it back without looking, Ascian reclaimed his sword and resettled himself so that he could start picking off blows from the quick, squirrely little man with two short swords.

"You're the best, Galvus!" 

* * *

"Did we lose anyone?" Aileth dragged another corpse into the line and then proceeded to hack off the head, directing her offhand question towards Solus as he hissed out a breath when their Medicus tightened some of the bandages around his arm. She never -did- understand why they bandaged over the armor, but couldn't deny that there was little to no chance that they would be able to properly dress the wounds while they were still in the field. 

"Janus and the others acted as a distraction at an intersection. They will wait for us at the gates, but we must needs hurry lest we lose him"

That made her pause, and she added the head to the sack she carried even as she made her way over. "Is he hurt?"

Solus shrugged a shoulder, scooping up his shield and working his arm through the straps as he stood. "I could not say why, but I have a feeling he might be injured and bleeding out. And considering I took Coria with me to help _you_, that rather limits their ability to recover."

"You didn't have to come after me. I could have handled them."

"Aileth." There was disapproval and a warning in his voice, and she leveled him with an irritated stare that held up against his exasperation. "Every battlefield I bring you onto, you rush ahead-"

"Your rank and file toy soldiers are as likely to stab me as they are their enemy, Galvus. It's better for me to hunt ahead, freed from the _shackles_ that weigh down the rest of your forces." Turning away, the Wraith collected the rest of her arrows and felt her lips curl into a grimace. "The only individuals who wouldn't are those hand picked by you and tested by me. A score of souls."

"Six of which were put on the line for _you, _you angry little mongrel." Stalking forward and snagging the dripping sack, the Tribunus Laticlavius leaned down and scowled at her, not that it was visible through the helmet. "Did you stop trusting me somewhere along the line?"

"No, I just realized how _slow_ armored units are." Reaching up to press a finger against the third eye marked on his face-plate, Aileth pushed until he straightened and then shook her head. "It's _boring_. Standing around, waiting for the okay to run my quarry into the ground. Siege tactics don't suit me, Galvus. It's a lot of standing around waiting for the people in front of me to take a single step forward."

"I need two more achievements to my name and then I will move up to Legatus." Beckoning towards their Medicus, he turned and started towards the door. A bright flicker of blue fell into step alongside him, and the three of them cautiously made their way back through the mansion they had infiltrated. "Once I become Legatus, then _you_ can test the loyalty of more soldiers, and then I can start putting together specialized units. All I need is a little bit more patience from you, Aileth."

"Wonderful. More sitting around. Why do I work with you again?"

"The sex, my dear." 

She punched him in the arm, hard enough that he rocked slightly, but any retort was stifled by the arrival of the guards and their horrified expressions as they realized the spherical nature of the contents of the sack he carried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'You've stopped writing again'  
YOU'RE A FACE ON A PILLOW STOP STARING AT ME I'LL WRITE OKAY JUST LEMME ALONE!!!  
e.e


	53. Chapter 53

Zenos had, naturally, traveled to the other Shards to try and round up as many of the Ascians as he could. A generally boring affair, if he did say so himself, if only because they hadn't put up too much of a fight. Nothing he couldn't weather and prevail against with a modicum of effort. Even fighting his great-grandfather, who they were calling Polydegmon presumably to tell him apart from the Solus native to the current timeline had proven more exciting, for all that he felt cheated out of a proper knock down, drag out fight. 

It was similar to how he felt as he watched two old men bicker back and forth about how best to gently siphon souls from the slumbering fragment of eikon before them. Other Shards were _boring_ insofar as their inhabitants weren't much of a fight, and what had promised to be exciting had turned into...

**<No, if you offset the amount of aether being siphoned, without being able to replace it 'tis a certainty that He will awaken.>**

**<You ** _grossly_ ** overestimate how sensitive a comatose subconscious may or may not be. -He- has slept undisturbed for millennia, a proverbial _tickle_ won't wake him.>**

**<_You_ rather seriously underestimate how much He likely wishes to reawaken! When I came through, they connected->**

The current emperor of Garlemald looked down at his swords, and pondered how satisfying cutting one or both of them down might be and then compared it against the boredom he felt. Would it be worth it? How quickly would one or both of them return with a replacement vessel? Would it anger his Beast enough that she would fight him?

**<-doesn't _matter_ how fully they connected, all the knowledge in the world won't do _Him_ any good if He lacks the ability to utilize it. Besides, even if His subconscious lashes out as you so believe His will, are you truly so delicate as to be unable to weather even a single blow?>**

**<Like _you_ could.>**

**<-Please-, I will have you know that I defeated the mental manipulations of His shard on the Thirteenth and managed to both fight off a hydra-based Creation that _bit through to the soul_ thank you very much -and- still managed to catch every soul my little Monster sundered out of Him.>**

The blond swordsman let out a careful breath, eyes wandering the terrain to take it in. The two of them had done something to make the intervening layers of rock vanish before they all descended through the floor of the chapel and came to rest a few fulms shy of some dull, purplish crystal. He could see his reflection on the glossy material, and took a moment to admire himself. It certainly wasn't his good looks that prevented him from finding a suitable mate, if nothing else...

**<'Tis truly _impressive_ what desperation can do. Unlike _you_, however, I would very much like to survive this encounter without burning out the upper edges of my potential. Or did you _forget_ the nasty conclusion we came to after Aileth died.>**

**<You-> **Emet-Selch made vague strangulation gestures with his hands as Polydegmon turned and crossed his arms, staring at the crystal before them. Taking a deep breath, the Ascian composed himself and jabbed a finger at his elder. **<If ruining my own spellcasting potential would give Priscilla even an inch of breathing room, I would do so in an instant. _You_ would do so, in an instant. Go on. Tell me plainly that I'm -wrong-. You can't, can you.>**

**<Whether or not I can, I->**

"Great-grandfathers, if there is aught you must needs discuss and air out, 'tis hardly the time or place for it. The souls we wish to remove are within this crystal, are they not?" Striding forward and tapping his knuckles idly against the dull purple surface, Zenos turned and looked back at the two Ascians that watched with horror for entirely different reasons. "Simply remove the souls and be about it. I have an empire to manage and a Hunt to engineer."

"Look, _boy_, 'tis not as easy as you think-"

"Look at Him. _Look at Him._" Polydegmon clawed at Emet-Selch's arm as his face drained of colour, and together the two of them stared as the blond swordsman was backlit by a growing red-purple glow. The current Garlean emperor turned slightly as he caught it out of the corner of his eye, and grinned widely as he stepped away and drew one of his swords. 

"Well now. Looks like there may be some excitement to be had in this little field trip after all. Come then, let us see if you fare any better than the last eikon to face my will!"

* * *

Elidibus woke slowly. Surrounded by a familiar warmth, he turned ever so slightly so that he could mindlessly brush his aether against it and soak up more of the cerulean sun that had taken up residence immediately adjacent to him. When it flinched and receded, he was left awkwardly blinking open his vessels eyes and staring at the unfamiliar view of the back of a couch he had only the foggiest recollection of falling asleep on. A twist brought into view the Warrior as she smiled sheepishly up at him from where she had stretched out on the floor. 

"Startled me there for a hot second. How're you feeling?"

"I..." Embarrassed. Flustered. Ashamed that he had succumbed and fallen unconscious when he was supposed to be on watch. Mournful at the lack of her warmth. "... Surprisingly better for the nap, although I would have preferred that you did not induce such a state again. It was decided that I would keep watch for the rifts, after all."

"Yeeeahhh, but you probably wouldn't have lasted an incursion the way you were. You were cracking a bit about the edges. Just a little bit." Lifting a hand, she indicated an ilm or so between her thumb and forefinger even as she started to grin. "'Sides! I wanted to see if some of the old things still worked. Turns out, they sorta do."

"The ability to induce lethargy?" Quirking a brow behind his mask, the Emissary started to prop himself up and slowly worked to divest himself of the blankets that had cocooned him. 

"Hmm... no, that was a... how would I put it... Originally meant for calming animals." Sitting up, the Warrior started to help him get free. "It's sort've like a cat's purr, and how it can help lower stress and help folks sleep? But aether, and pitched too low for most folk to catch. The only reason it worked on you is because you were exhausted, and I can only do it basically right next to the person 'cause I don't have the best reach yet." 

"I find myself unfamiliar with this phenomena." Standing and adjusting his robes so that they were settled properly about his frame, Elidibus slid Polite Smile Number Three into place and inclined his head politely. "I presume the hour is late. There are many things I must apply myself to while I have the opportunity. Should I sense any rifts opening, I will-"

"Nope! That'd take too long." Beaming at him, Priscilla stepped closer and idly swatted his arm. "I'm to stick with you so that the very moment you sense anything, you can send me there. The difference of a few seconds could spell disaster, and I want to trade some ideas back and forth to see if I know of anything that might help."

"Are you certain? You might dislike the things I do." 

"Ophi, unless you've got another Altima hidden away somewhere and plan to go and throttle them it'll be fine." She smiled at him, easygoing and mildly amused. 

He found himself sheepishly smiling back.

* * *

The first mistake the eikon made was to try and bend him to it's will. He didn't _like_ that, and brushed aside the compulsion to kneel as if it was cobwebs hanging in an ancient passage. Of his great-grandfathers, Polydegmon seemed to almost quail, dropping to his knees and huddling as Emet-Selch stood his ground, straightened his posture and grit his teeth despite how it seemed that such was about all he could do. Zenos felt that neither of them were likely to be much good in the upcoming fight, and thus put them both out of his mind. 

When complete obedience had failed it, the eikon had compacted down into a roughly humanoid form with a ring of matching crystal that orbited behind it and spun almost lazily. Held between two upturn tendrils that extended out of the back, it had launched a series of blasts of aether into the confined space he stood and then turned as if to start to leave, pulling a rift open. Zenos had slid down into the large empty space the mass of crystal had once occupied and surged outwards to catch it across the side with a sword and bat it away. 

The quiet sound of a snap echoed through the air, and as the rift closed he realized that perhaps at least _one_ of his forebears might prove to be worth while in the upcoming fight. Uncertain as to which one it was, he landed lightly on the platform that materialized and let his resonant surge through him. The eikon vibrated out an angry tone as it hit the platform, and when it bounced back up a shimmering barrier formed and locked it in with him. 

** _<<Child, serve me, and together we shalt bring death and destruction to the masses in untold proportions.>>_ **

There wasn't any mental pressure coupled with the words, so Zenos felt confident that the eikon knew it couldn't mentally overpower him. That meant it was -weak-, and the way it wasted time on words in an attempt to persuade him was almost laughable. Tilting his head, the blond swordsman grinned and settled his sword at his side. "You promise me bloodshed?"

** _<<Together we shall paint the world red with the blood of our enemies.>>_ **

"You promise me carnage?"

_ **<<The world will hear your name and tremble in fear.>>** _

"Then you offer me nothing that I do not already have. 'Tis only one thing I lack, the pleasure of the Hunt." Zenos leveled his sword at the crystalline humanoid, teeth bared in an almost feral grin as he drew in a breath and slowly let it out. "Come now eikon. Do not disappoint me."

**_<<The Warrior of Light_->>**

He didn't let it finish, instead surging across the platform and testing the rippling barrier that sprang up with a pair of diagonal slashes and then puncturing through when he gathered himself and lunged. The ground flashed orange at him, and he braced himself with the determination to see what, exactly, this eikon was capable of. Aether gathered and flashed through him-

_(Pointless.)_

-An irritation, nothing more, and as he pushed the intrusive thought aside he took stock of himself. There wasn't even a scratch on his armor. Raising the blade once more, he waded through another blast-

_(All fell as wheat before the scythe. There is no purpose, no point even to this. For what comes next? Nothing. Boredom, endless and unceasing as time was wasted and whiled away.)_

-How odd, he thought to himself. He hadn't had thoughts like that since he had met his Beast. Shaking the thoughts clear of his head, he brought his sword across in a lazy ark that bounced harmlessly off the rippling shield, and blinked as another blast of aether surged through him-

_(Even this, fighting an eikon of legend, was a pale and hollow thing. Washed out, faded, lacking the thrill he had found once. Why bother? Even hunting for sport would never bring him the pleasure he sought.)_

The blond swordsman lowered the red and black katana in his grasp, and frowned. 

_(The only one that had ever brought him joy, enkindled the thrill of the hunt was the Warrior of Light. If he left, he could kill her-)_

The aether that washed over him once more was interrupted by a rippling barrier, identical to the one that had protected the eikon. Blinking, he scowled at the way Emet-Selch had essentially materialized in front of him. The sword came up, waving to the side. 

"Move. You are in the way."

"Of what, your determination to stand there and let His aether corrode you from the inside out? Get a grip on yourself, boy! Are you a Galvus, or are you a lesser beast that gives in at the faintest hint of manipulation!" The Ascian grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes as the air around them rippled, his barrier barely holding up under the increased onslaught. "If you _can't_ kill Him, then so help me I will _do it myself!_"


	54. Chapter 54

Emet-Selch was having a bad day. First off, Zenos never had been one to stick to a military formation, and as such the Ascian was forced to constantly keep moving. Any thaumaturge worth their aether would be able to point out why that was, in fact, an untenable strategy to maintain. He didn't even have enough time to gather the focus required to arm himself with his sword and shield. 

Tisking under his breath, the Architect threw everything he had into maintaining the security of his own aether and stopped looking for openings with which to counter while he kept his distance. Instead, he angled his latest trajectory to intersect with the current emperor of Garlemald's path, whistling a shrill note to get the blond swordsman's attention. It worked, and the look of irritation he was shot as Zenos slid aside to avoid one of the weaker, more insidious blasts of aether shifted to one of understanding as he pointed to the sword caddy. 

The blond swordsman started to cut towards him, partially drawing a second sword and sidestepping so that Emet-Selch could pull it the rest of the way free as he passed by. The storm, he realized, and clucked his tongue as he circled around. If only he had a shield, he mused. A katana was not a sword meant for parrying, after all, but he would make due. Miraculously, he found Zenos closing in to flank Zodiark as he finished circling around, and wasn't surprised to find his former god had decided to focus on him instead of his descendant. 

** _<<Blasphemer, traitor!>>_ **

The words cut through him, and he fought the urge to flinch as he darted aside to avoid the pillar of familiar pale purple crystal that had shot up to try and spear through him. That was the trouble with trying to fight something made from the abilities of thirteen potent individuals, he mused. It invariably inherited abilities from each of them. Fighting defensively, he noted the abilities of several others as he twisted and turned, avoiding what he could and taking glancing blows at best otherwise. 

Mitron's ability to move unpredictably, an active warping and folding of the space around Him to both deflect attacks and give His own a better chance of connecting. Igeyorhm's ability to reach out and connect to the soul of another, which the Architect fended off as viciously and brutally as he could. The ability to kill simply by remaining in proximity too long, which just didn't _work_ on him but forced Zenos to back off and stop hacking through the retaliatory jabs Zodiark sent his way.

It was interesting to note that each of the Convocation member's abilities were only being used one at a time. Emet-Selch had particularly clear memories of them being used in tandem, which meant that each fragment would very likely only be able to cycle through them. The thought made him somewhat more relaxed as he slipped aside to avoid a tri-cast series of sparks. He wouldn't have to worry about the abilities _stacking_ the same way they had when the complete version had fought Hydaelyn. 

His back hit the barrier, and rather belatedly the Ascian realized he had run out of room to flee as he watched a dense, dark crystalline forearm spear forward towards him. 

* * *

"Hey, I've got a question." 

Elidibus marked the page in his book so that he could glance up to find the Warrior balancing along one of the railings in the Great Gubal Library. They were in the process of sorting through the books (or at least, he was) to try and determine what should be taken to Dun Scaith as it was being prepared as the new home of the Ascians. Priscilla, naturally, had started trying to help and promptly gone off to see if there were any monsters left that she could kill or things she could jump and hang from. 

"What is your question, Eschaton."

"If Hydaelyn came from me, why do you guys call her my mother?" Squinting down at him, the Warrior turned and stepped out into the air, landing lightly on the floor next to him. As she straightened and dusted herself off, she peered at him and tilted her head, waiting for his answer. 

"It is from Her that you were constantly reborn. This in mind, in tandem with Her title of the Mothercrystal, made it the most apt descriptor. Lahabrea also mentioned that She has a tendency to call you Her child."

"Eh? Oh! -Oh-. Oh fuck." Sitting down heavily, Priscilla covered her mouth with a hand as she thought back to the earliest memory she could think of that featured Hydaelyn speaking to her. "There was an Ascian there that tried to snag me, wasn't there. That was the Speaker, wasn't it."

"It was. Without Emet-Selch to stand constant vigilance, he was willing to risk himself in an attempt to recover you before you were reborn. His intent was to bring you to me that I might see to your Tempering by Zodiark."

"Man... Hey, do you think maybe that the Architect's constant watching was his way of making sure I kept being reborn by Hydaelyn? Like maybe he was doing it to make sure I didn't get turned into an Ascian?" Dropping her hand into her lap, Priscilla frowned and glanced up at the Emissary as two white robed shoulders were lifted and dropped in a slow, easy shrug. 

"Such is entirely possible. If Lahabrea was able to get so close on his first try, then it stands to reason that the years of practice Emet-Selch has had would allow him to succeed. He is also rather more in tune with the Lifestream than most. A question to put towards him, no doubt. He was always torn between his love of you and his loyalty to our god, and this revelation would not surprise me in the least." Polite Smile Number Three pulled the corners of his lips upwards as Elidibus turned back to the book he was holding. "It has come to my attention that you intend to try and pull yourself out of the Zodiark of the future."

"I mean... Yeah? I don't know how well it'll work, though. Polydegmon seems to believe I-she? She, was torn to pieces first and that I'm probably not recoverable. He's -really- hoping that it might work, though. What do you think? What would you say my odds are?" Tilting her head, the Warrior leaned back against the stack of books between her and the bookshelf, stretching out her legs as she did. 

"I wonder..." Polite Smile Number Three turned a little sad around the edges, morphing into Mournful Smile Number Eight. After a moment of deliberation, Elidibus slowly began to nod. "I believe that, if it is you, you will be able to successfully achieve your goal."

"Eh? Really? No doubts?" 

"While you may have been torn asunder and fed to Zodiark in bite-sized pieces, it is my belief that the eldest of primals would have attempted to restore you. I can only theorize how well this may have worked, however considering the fact that you never made a reappearance in three hundred years leads me to believe that regardless of how well he succeeded, you continued to fight him and managed to prevent yourself from bowing to his will." Closing the book and setting it on the stack the Warrior leaned against, the Emissary took a single step aside as he resumed perusal of the bookshelf. 

"What makes you so sure?"

"It is what I would have done."

* * *

The expected pain never came. Instead, a sudden feeling of vertigo struck him and he found himself falling backwards, partially pulled by the hand that had clamped down onto the back of his coat. Polydegmon, white-faced and still retreating away from the hole in the failing barrier, swallowed loudly as the fragment of Zodiark drifted to a halt and slowly turned to face the two of them. 

**_<<Despair, for I am_**_-**>>**_

Zenos hit the primal with the force of a much larger creature, momentum carrying the two of them into the wall. The crystalline being was pinned to the wall like a butterfly by the red and black katana the blond swordsman had punctured through His torso with, and the two of them hung there for a long moment as the Swell was drawn. Red on black eyes partially closed as his lips pulled into a feral grin, working to wedge the sword next to the Ame-no-Habakiri as the air around them warped and twisted. The suggestion of a compass manifested within the cracked halo of the primal, slowly starting to spin before coming to a halt as the second katana gained a green swirl of a glow. 

For a moment, the two of them were there and elsewhere before the Swell tore Zodiark apart from the inside out, aided by the screaming black and red wave of concussive force that burst out from the sword that bore its colours. Shards of crystal burst outwards, and with a glance an agreement was reached. Polydegmon let go of the Architect, focused on drawing the released souls towards him as Emet-Selch went into a freefall. 

He found the unconscious body of his great-grandson on the ground, chunks of crystal punched through his armor in places, and reached for the soul his Wife was most likely to be worried about.


	55. Sick, but flu not covid-19!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya writer has the flu

Am sick, been sick, will be sick for the forseeable future  
Staring at a screan hurts, so illnget back to you all on that

* * *

Edit: I wonder if anyone is ever going to re-read this, so I'll use this as a sneak peak section so I can post bits that happened in the background. maybe. Or I'll just use it for this wee little bit and forget. We'll see

* * *

"Alexander!" 

"Honourable Eschaton." A polite nod was offered towards the red-masked figure in ragged robes as she sat down in the grass next to him, overlooking the stretch of dense forest that, for her, everything would end within. "... If I do this, there will be no going back."

"Can't you just look in your little book and see how this conversation's going to play out?" She grinned crookedly over at him as he clutched the tome closer to his chest. "Altima's agreed to it. She knows what's at stake." 

"You don't understand what you're asking me to do." 

"Alex, c'mon. You're supposed to be able to see the future." She nudged him gently, and he curled tighter around the book, shooting her a sullen glare. "You told me this would work."

"I'm not a member of the Convocation. I'm your _practice concept_, something that enables you to retry a fight if you lose and revisit it later to practice and get stronger. And I've seen every path this possibility could take, it's... It's not a perfect fix. You die, again and again and again, and so many people die, and-" 

An arm was slung over his shoulder as Eschaton pulled him against her, drawing the paring knife that was her official weapon of office and idly using it to cut through the grass until she got to the dirt. "I know. You've said that a few times now. Venat gets it worse, she effectively gets folded into my existence, along with the few other volunteers. But if we're smart, if we're careful, you get sort've subbed in as another Convocation member and I end up taking all the suffering for this. We Eschaton are hardy folk, and although our Burden is Bewitchment, doubling down with Lethe isn't so bad." 

"This could break the fabric of existence-"

"Alex, Alexander, Clockwork Angel, Inevitability come _on_. Why else would have come into being with a book that would let you rewrite the world around you if not for it to be used?" She nudged him gently. "You doing this makes me strong enough to protect everything. The fabric of reality rebels and the laws of reality unravel a little bit, causing the Doom. You know what happens from there." 

"But is it _worth_ it?" He breathed the words into the binding of his book, knees drawn up. "So many people suffer because of this."

"Chaos comes, whether we want him to or not and doing this makes this star unappetizing for him. It's either this or get trapped in a time loop, Alex."

He mulled it over for a moment, before sighing and closing his eyes. "... I need a fancy word for fate and an excuse for the book."

"Sors. Scribes carry books. So do historians."


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to this next bit for a while.   
Bear with me, we're so far off the edge of the map that canon is only a passing suggestion and mild wave towards the game.

Priscilla's ability to _listen_ was generally a short-ranged thing. A surprisingly extensive conversation with the Devourer had let her know that it didn't have to be, as it had been a shared trait, but with the fragment's death and subsequent merge with her own aether had given her a bit more flexibility with it. It was her ability to sense aether on the same average level as the citizens of Amaurot back when she had been Persephone, and when she mentioned it to Elidibus had learned that Altima had possessed something similar as well.

Boosted by Zodiark's power into some semblance of usefulness, naturally, but similar. The Ascian had apparently likened it to a bat's echolocation at one point, which was why during the conversation with the Emissary a promise of aid was elicited in regards to practicing it. With nothing really better to do (At least, nothing Ophiuchus would admit to) she made sure that he followed through. 

That was why, when she sat back to back with him atop Azys Lla, slowly getting used to the ability to stretch her senses out and learning the limitations of her range and the feedback it provided she both noticed and almost missed the return of Emet-Selch and Zenos. She had trouble interpreting what her senses returned to her, and had to break her own concentration for a second to keep from getting overwhelmed. There had been a ridiculous amount of feedback through the aether in the space of six seconds, and as she lifted a hand to her head she noted that Elidibus had twisted around to settle a hand on her shoulder and anchor her somewhat.

A small spark of the Architect had bloomed into existance a fraction of a second before the rest of him billowed through that point and settled on the other side. The other Ascians in the area had all flared their aether as a sort of head count and greeting, answered by his own and then the feeling of everyone _looking_ had faded before his curiosity as it glanced across her sensibilities. He stepped out of a rift a moment later, head tilting as he took advantage of the barrier that was keeping Elidibus unruffled by the wind. 

"Emissary. What have we here?"

"Architect." A polite nod was offered and returned as Elidibus smoothly pushed himself to his feet. "Eschaton wished for some guidance. As the singular individual familiar with Altima's strengths and weaknesses, it was determined that I was the most suitable individual to aid her in this."

"Altima's, perhaps. In regards to Eschaton's, however, I find myself to be the local _expert_." Folding his arms, Emet-Selch tried to maintain his air of irritation and failed to as the Warrior popped up and threw her arms around his waist, beaming at him. 

"I beat my record of forty five fulms of range! Figured that since I've gotta be stuck with him for now, maybe he could lend a hand. It's not a passive thing by any means, I've still got to focus but hey, it's a bit've progress right? How'd everything go on your end?"

"Well enough, little Monster. Polydegmon has returned to Hydaelyn the souls of those trapped within that fragment of Zodiark. A _slight_ hiccough with regards to our great-grandson, however he should be fine with a little bit of rest. Garleans are particularly hardy folk, after all, and he is a particularly fine physical example of them." A soft huff escaped him as he dropped an arm to wrap it about her shoulders, turning to ignore the Emissary for the time being as he studied her. "What of yourself?"

"No portal attempts that we've been able to sense so far. I don't like it." Priscilla grimaced beneath her mask, before shifting up enough to steal a brief kiss and then grimace. "If I could tear holes through time, I'd try and hit the same moment staggered by a few minutes so that I'd have all the time to prepare but the folks I was attacking _didn't_, so the longer we go on our side without an attack like that just makes me itch."

"Much as I would like to say that such is an unlikely event, 'tis entirely possible." A soft sigh escaped him as the Architect hunched and let more of his weight settle onto her. "Time between the Shards simply does not flow the same. Perhaps this complicates things further. From what I recall of the raspberry rock candy Tia's methods with the Crystal Tower it differs from our own ability to traverse the Rift in that such is untethered from the central timeline."

"You're saying... Maybe they have been trying, but they've missed?" The Warrior squinted up at him as he lightly shrugged. 

"Theoretically they could be in any number of timelines, affecting any number of versions of the source. Who can say how many different branches there are now? The mere attempt may have splintered off countless tens, hundreds, _thousands_ of different realities out there. Please understand, little Monster, 'tis not as though such is a well studied concept." A minor adjustment had him properly draped over her, and she stooped briefly so that she could hang him over her shoulder like a sack of popotos, carrying him instead. He tensed as if to protest for a moment before resigning himself to his fate and simply sighed when her arm came up around his waist to properly anchor him. "Although, quite honestly I believe I may have another explanation. Perhaps they attempted to go back to the beginning, when the Doom first struck. We already know that simply because your Exarch left his timeline, it did not cease to exist regardless of being the main timeline. Such may be why our own timeline is largely intact."

"I followed maybe a third've that. Give me a hot second to see if I can muddle through the rest. Meanwhile, Elidibus would you mind taking us to his rooms? He's going to wanna rest and I don't think it's a good idea for us to split from each other just yet."

The Emissary politely inclined his head, smiling Polite Smile Number Four, and gestured to the ripple of darkness he was already pulling into existence.

* * *

"Thine explanation was needlessly complex, however such hath lingered 'pon my mind as well. Whyfor hath our opponents failed to return, to make a second strike?" Urianger slid a cup of tea towards Priscilla and started pouring a third for their white-robed guest as Emet-Selch helped himself to the coffee. "However, 'tis another angle we must needs determine. One of synchronization."

"Your concern is that if they _do_ manage to get into our timeline, they might somehow merge with the current inhabitants similar to how an Ardor shuffles the aether of the destroyed Shard into the inhabitants of the Source." The Architect frowned, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to the Warrior at the table they had gathered at. "Polydegmon and myself have yet to begin _merging_, so I believe we can rule that possibility out."

"Not quite, however such doubtless eases my mind." The elezen smiled faintly and took the seat across from him, settling next to the Emissary. "T'was no portal that moved the Crystal Tower, but a phasing. Such simply disappeared from one reality, reappearing 'pon a Shard within our own. We know too that such was the intent of G'raha Tia, for the First was the Shard tied to the release of Black Rose."

"The attempt made by the Enemy was a portal." Elidibus let a thoughtful frown paint his face as he stirred a teaspoon of honey into his tea. "A notable difference."

"When Polydegmon came through, he was still in the Vault but just... Here, instead of there." Squinting thoughtfully, the Warrior idly toyed with her teabag, dunking it in the water repeatedly. "That's the same way that the Exarch did it, I think. He didn't step through anything, he was just suddenly elsewhere. Oh. Oh no, I've just had a bad thought."

"I should be surprised, yet somehow I find myself having expected this. You believe there was another sacrifice to give Him the ability to portal between timelines, don't you." Sipping his coffee, Emet-Selch leaned slightly to glance at Priscilla as she nodded, a troubled look on her face. 

"It makes more sense than them having spent time to figure out how it worked. I dunno how they would've _aimed_ but that seems to sort've be the theme here. Sacrificing a whole bunch of aether to have wishes granted, that is. Which begs the question, who would've likely made that wish, and how would they've worded it. If we can guess that, we might be able to narrow down what this ability could _do_."

"For which, we would need to know who was active and who was not. Safe to say we can strike myself, Nabriales, Deudalaphon, Igeyorhm and Lahabrea from the list. Three were killed by you before mucking with timelines became a _theme_, one was out of commission courtesy of the vaunted 'heroes' of the Thirteenth and Polydegmon is the one they were chasing." Counting off the individuals on one gloved hand, the Architect frowned and glanced towards where Elidibus was nodding slowly. "That leaves yourself, Mitron, Lohgrif, Emmerololth, Fandaniel, Halmarut and Pashtarot."

"That's only twelve. With me that's thirteen." Priscilla paused, frowning. "Wait, who'm I missing?"

"Sors, the Scribe. An utterly useless individual who's sole purpose and job is to keep our people's histories." Emet-Selch scoffed and waved a hand, only to pause as Elidibus gave him a blank look. "What. Weaselly looking fellow with a large book. Worse posture than mine. Don't tell me you don't _know_ him, you've surely traded words with him in the past have you not?"

"I have no recollection of this individual, Emet-Selch."

"Impossible. I saw you speaking with him days before we Created Zodiark. The Convocation of Fourteen was Lohgrif, Mitron, myself, Pashtarot, Fandaniel, Eschaton, Halmarut, Nabriales, Igeyorhm, Deudalaphon, Emmerololth, Lahabrea, Elidibus. That should be... No, Sors was..." The Architect frowned, lifting a hand to his head as pain started to bloom behind his eyes. His Burden was conflicting with the nigh perfect recollection one of his Secrets gave him, and he grit his teeth against the rising nausea within him. Fourteen. There were fourteen of them. Thirteen names, plus one that simply _never existed_, and yet...

"Hades? Uri, do something!"


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready. It's about to get -weird-

Emet-Selch woke up feeling worse than he had when the hydra-like creature had bitten him through to the soul, but nonetheless managed to open both eyes and find the Warrior leaning over him. From the view of the ceiling, he was clearly stretched out on the couch, but too disoriented to determine how long he might have been out. Clearing his throat slightly, he parted his lips and tried to ask but paused as he realized his words were an incoherent slurred drawl. 

"Easy, it's alright. You got the snot beaten out've you from the inside. Seems you weren't expecting it either, I know you can usually fight and keep yourself alright for a little bit when your Burden decides to kick your butt." Her hand brushing his hair back drew a sub-vocal hum from the Architect as he closed his eyes, relaxing slowly. "I won't tell you not to try and figure out why that happened, because I know you can't _not_, so just... Try and be careful alright?" 

"Our paramour shalt recover quickly, if given time and motivation to rest. 'Tis a task I am more than willing to apply myself to." Urianger's voice drifted to the Architect from nearby, and the quiet sound Emet-Selch made was repeated with a bit more flavour, drawing a snort from the Warrior. 

"And I won't even be around to _watch_. Maaan... Take care've him, yeah? Elidibus, come on. There's a few things I need to look into, and I -still- can't teleport."

* * *

Zenos awoke abruptly, floating in a tube. A quick glance at himself confirmed it, bandages were swathed around parts of his torso and his left arm was in a sling. There was residual soreness when he idly shifted his shoulder, and experience told him that it had been dislocated and properly set only recently. That it was sore at all made him think that he must not have been in there for that long. Allagan technology when it came to physical bodies was incredible, after all. 

A moment of focus had the air around him rippling, and he touched down outside with a splat and coughed out the double lungful of whatever liquid it was that filled the tank (breathable, unsurprisingly) and slowly straightened his posture as he noted a familiar click-clack of metal tapped boots making their way towards him. Glancing towards the source of the sound, a slow, lazy grin crossed his features as the Warrior lifted a hand and waved, the white-robed Ascian keeping pace with her and inclining his head politely as she did.

"My Beast, my first friend, surely you have come to congratulate me." 

"Aye, I heard you felled a fragment of Zodiark. Well done, you've one upped me in this but don't think for a second that you'll get to keep your lead." She flashed him an answering grin, tucking her hands behind her head. "How was it? Boring? Exciting?"

"An unusual foe. Omnidirectional vision, flanking seemed to produce no particular advantage, save for the option of available anatomy. Although, when you are a loosely man-shaped floating chunk of crystallized aether, one supposes it would be all the same." Reaching out to accept the loose slacks that Elidibus produced, Zenos shook them out with one hand and then started to step into them, mindful to keep his sling-bound arm secure against his chest as he did. "It had a plethora of tricks, however. A variety of aether blasts, however the lesser ones possessed some manner of mental disruption that sought to seed doubts and dismay, in addition to prompting specific behaviors."

"Gee, I wonder where he could have gotten that from." Priscilla folded her arms, tone bone dry as she looked over at the Emissary. His polite smile was as flawless as ever, and she rolled her eyes as he inclined his head. 

"This is not unexpected. As Zodiark was created from a portion of each of us, it stands to reason that He would have inherited a copy of some of our abilities. You have experienced similar with regards to breeding chocobo, if I am not mistaken."

"Yeah, about that, how much of Him is you, and how much of Him is the others?" Turning to face Elidibus properly and give the current Garlean Emperor time to put his pants on one handed and one leg at a time, the Warrior canted her head to the side. "When I was trying to cut him out've you, it was _really_ hard to distinguish his aether from yours. It almost caused problems."

The white hood bowed slightly as the Emissary contemplated the floor for a moment, shoulders rising and lifting with the soft sigh that eased carefully out of him. "Is that not a question for your great-grandson, Eschaton? He fought against His might naught but a handspan of hours ago, after all."

"I mean, yeah." She narrowed her eyes slightly, taking in his stance and squinting for a moment before shrugging and turning towards Zenos as he adjusted himself within the confines of the pants. "Thought I'd try and give him a moment to put his pants on with a semblance of dignity though, 'cause that was something I really didn't need to see."

"Envious?" The word came as a taunt as the blond swordsman settled his hand on his hip and grinned. Priscilla grabbed at her crotch and sighed mournfully, nodding. 

"Like you wouldn't believe. I've got the energy for it, but lack the big dick itself. I get by with the reminder that there's nothing for me to sit on and squish, though. Anything else to report on His abilities?"

"Some manner of spacial distortion. It made it difficult to strike, and difficult to dodge. A displacement, almost. At the end as well, t'was an unusual form of transportation. It was as if we were in two locations at the same time. I recognized the near-field life draining effect that Great-grandfather is able to employ as well." Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, Zenos tilted his head and hummed for a moment. "Curiously enough, none of these abilities were used together, but in succession similar to how a Garlean revolver needs must be reloaded and fired in successive order." 

"A pattern, then." Turning slightly, she tilted her head towards the door and started ambling towards it, both Emissary and Garlean falling into step with her.

"Indeed. Otherwise from what I could see of how it fought Solus it seemed to favour piercing attacks and sweeping cleaves of attacks. I have never seen my Great-grandfather wielding a katana before, and I must say I am surprised. He seems passingly proficient. Somewhat clumsy, but acceptable."

"Yeah, keep in mind he's a sorcerer, not necessarily a swordsman. I'm surprised he didn't stick to one spot and choose bombardment tactics." Tucking her hands behind her head once more, Priscilla heaved a sigh and idly stared at the ceiling as they wandered back towards the teleporter that would take them to the living quarters. 

"The eikon gave him no such option. Once he entered the ring, it sought him as it's primary target."

"And Poly? How'd he hold up?" An easy pivot and adjustment to her stride had the Warrior facing the Ascian and blond swordsman and meandering backwards with no difficulty at all. Honest curiosity was written across her face, though it faded into puzzlement at his derisive snort. 

"Largely useless. Upon first encountering the eikon he sought to retreat, to hide, and was only useful on two fronts. The first, to maintain the barrier and platform we fought upon and within, and the second to pull your Solus out of the way of what could have potentially proven to be a decapitating blow."

"He's a little bit mentally fragile right now, Zenos. It'd be like any average villager being asked to voluntarily walk up to you and punch you in the dick right after they watched you murder everyone they ever loved. They'd be a bit shaken and need to work themselves up to it with a bit of motivation, and what matters is he _did_ something. Baby steps. Confidence doesn't come overnight." An easygoing smile crossed her face as she spun, dropping her hands to the console so that she could set the destination. The air shimmered around them, and when her vision cleared the Warrior paused and stared at the chamber that housed the tanks Zenos had previously been within.

A glance back confirmed that Elidibus was with her, and as she advanced a few paces into the chamber. Zenos vanished from within the tank, and when he failed to reappear she turned to quirk a brow at the politely smiling Emissary. She marked which smile it was and recognized it as a reflexive one, managing something of a mixed cringe and grimace as she jabbed a thumb back at the empty tank. 

"Am I crazy, or did we just do this with a different outcome?"

"I assure you, both are true."

An amused snort erupted from the Warrior as she tucked her hands behind her head, grinning easily. "Points for humour, I'll give you that much."

A thorough investigation of the aether around them yielded little in the way of results, and at the end of ten minutes they both found themselves abruptly back at the doorway. A shared glance had them both leaning into the room to note the still empty tank. 

"... Ophi? Any ideas?"

"Attempt to teleport in a similar fashion as the Garlean and see where it takes us?" The offer was tentative, and as he voiced it he immediately regretted it when she spun around to face him and grinned widely. A single step had one of her arms companionably around his shoulder.

"Alright then. Shall we?" 

He was proud of the way his grimace was utterly stifled, and pulled a rift about them.

* * *

The first thing Priscilla noticed was the _textural_ difference. That it was pitch black and incredibly cold were second to the feeling of feathers and smooth layered plates as big as her thumbnail that enveloped her, and as she wiggled an arm up to tap her mask, her vision was filled with aether in the shape of scales. Everywhere she looked, be it up, down, left or right was reptilian musk and a serpentine body that was as thick as her torso. She presumed it was the Ascian himself by how it seemed to very carefully try and keep from crushing her, even as it coiled and formed a ball around her to protect her from the frost that had already started to form across her jacket. 

A brief attempt to talk failed her, and she threw her hands upwards as best she could before a large serpentine nose eased between two coils and shifted to turn a large red eye towards her. 

** _<<Peace, Eschaton. It appears that the Source is caught in some manner of barrier. Emet-Selch and many of the other Ascians, as well as the Garlean, are gathered close to the moon. I thought it prudent to pause in between and attempt to study the situation. It is good that I have done so, as it appears that He is already digging the half-complete version of himself native to this timeline free of the moon.>>_ **

Priscilla paused, before heaving a silent sigh and lifting both hands to scrub at her face. 

** _<<While I understand that this may be... difficult, to request under such circumstances, would you be able to hide us as you did yourself and those that traveled with you to the Burn when you went to fight Polydegmon? Considering our adversaries, I do not believe hiding here will do more than buy the time it takes for Him to turn around and check for us.>>_ **

A grimace crossed her features, and Eschaton nodded as she dropped her hands and focused.

* * *

Emet-Selch drifted with the others, shackled and mentally doing a headcount as he idly observed the way the Source had simply stopped rotating in place. Deudalaphon, Lahabrea, Polydegmon and Elidibus were all missing for the time being, and Zenos had attempted to catch his eye and shake his head before triggering his Resonant to keep his body serviceable. He had a few questions, such as what in Hydaelyn's name _that_ was supposed to have meant, and where the Mothercrystal herself was.

She couldn't have gotten far, but a subtle search of the fixed point she had orbited the Source from turned up nothing useful beyond a few floating chunks of rock debris that had drifted there. Zodiark wasn't exactly _tidy_ as he slowly excavated a part of the purple crystal of His native counterpart. What surprised him was the way the eldest Primal wasted no time in His efforts to devour the weaker version of Himself. 

There wasn't much of a struggle, considering the drastic difference in strength between the complete and incomplete individuals. What did catch his attention, however, was the way some of the kicked up rubble and debris seemed to ever so slightly alter their trajectories as they drifted towards where Hydaelyn should have been. A slight flash of blue cloth confirmed it, and as Zodiark finished His feast to turn towards where She had once lingered, the Architect cleared his throat and reached out with his aether. 

**<<Oh eldest and most powerful of primals->>**

_**<<The Blasphemer** **dares to speak. The first to betray Me, and shirk My Blessing. How bold. Dost thou seek to beg for the fate of thy world?>>**_

**<<I would not presume myself capable of making a difference, my Lord.>>** Bowing his head as best he could in the crystaline shackles that held him, Emet-Selch let a thin smile play over his face as his mind raced. **<<I simply wished to offer the knowledge of each of the other Shards, and the fragments of your Greatness that yet lay within them. I have ever been loyal to the cause we Created you to fulfill, namely the protection and recovery of our people. Would you not need your greatest strength for this?>>**

He could feel the muted rage from the others and ignored it as best he could. He couldn't lie, but he could twist the truth. He could try and get the primal away from the Source, away from the shrouded and hidden Hydaelyn and the crellbron that were doubtless disguising her as just another patch of empty space. 

He could buy them time to dig Priscilla out of whatever fresh hell had been induced upon the Source, and with Hydaelyn's Blessing still twisted through his aether he stood the best chance of them all to successfully keep his independence. 

** _<<Thou canst not lie. And yet, thy will is not mine to command any more. Her light yet taints thy soul, Betrayer, yet thy words further My search for power. What is thy goal?>>_ **

To stall for time.**<<To seek the right to ask but a single question and receive an answer, my Lord.>>** To make Him turn away, and leave the immediate area so that the crellbron that were still ever so carefully teasing rubble away from the presumably retreating Mothercrystal had a better chance at success.

_ **<<Very well. The bargain is struck. What is thine** ** inquiry?>>** _

**<<Does my wife yet still live within you, my Lord?>>**

He could feel the scrutiny of the others as their muffled anger faded, and shuddered as he felt Zodiark's influence tease against the edges of his mind. 

_ **<<Yes. Which Shards yet remain?>>** _

Gritting his teeth, he thought about how best to answer to protect the first and eighth, and bowed his head. Six remained. Of those, five lacked fragments of Zodiark. That left the Eighth, one that he had hoped to spare-

_ **<<Answer, Betrayer.>>** _

**<<First, Fourth, Eighth, Ninth, Eleventh and Thirteenth. If I may make a recommendation->>**

_ **<<Thou may not. Come, Blasphemers and Traitors alike who have shirked My Blessing. Watch as thy fragmented shards are devoured before I return to feast 'pon thy Source. If My nemesis goes to ground, then I shalt not leave any ground to go to.>>** _


	58. Chapter 58

Polydegmon let out a slow breath as Zodiark turned transparent, utilizing one of Mitron's secrets to simply transport Himself and the captive Ascians elsewhere. As they all faded, the crellbron exchanged a series of glances and broke formation, allowing the handful of stragglers to pass through the subtle illusion they had gathered to work on. It was only then, when they started shooting him strange looks, that he realized he was still pressed back against the glowing surface of the Mothercrystal as if he could will himself backwards through the hard surface and out the other side. 

He would have liked to have said that he separated himself from Hydaelyn with anything remotely resembling grace, but that would have been a lie. Every time he tried to move, the realization that Zodiark was _there_ flashed through him and had his aether curling up into as tight a ball as it could. He was frightened. He was scared. He had seen the sheer mass of the souls that had made up the massive bulk of his former Gods form, had been able to count them individually and chosen not to waste his time on it. 

_<<I make for the Thirteenth.>>_

**<<What? Not the sea of light-aspected aether you drifted upon?>>**

Warmth eased across his aether, a gentle and reassuring touch as She began to turn. The crellbron formed up as one and each began to launch into gestures as they each cast their spells in tandem with one another, the space about them all beginning to ripple with their efforts.

_<<No, little Hades. Eden awaits Me, and the process of converting the Shard's void-tainted aether, while already begun, has yet to complete. I must needs take what has been prepared to prevent it from falling into His hands.>>_

**<<But... What about Priscilla? Or the Eighth?>>** Drifting along beside her, he folded his arms and suppressed the shudder that went through him as the reassuring warmth eased across his aether once more. 

_<<My child is not bound to the Source as most are, having ensured His former Priest remains with her at all times. Thou shalt meet them 'pon the Eighth moon, to steal from Zodiark his final fragment. First head to the remains of the Primal known as Alexander. One awaits thy presence there whom shalt prove a willing spear against the enemy.>>_

The ripples in space closed behind Her, and left him drifting alone in the empty void before he huffed and pulled a rift about himself.

* * *

Priscilla tried to indicate her incoming dilemma as she felt the mask's ability to suspend her need for air begin to fade with hand signals, and received a confused look and then two rounds of failed charades for her troubles. It was when she started to lose consciousness that Elidibus began to understand and eased them out into the void of space where he immediately pulled into being a small bubble of atmosphere for her to suck into her lungs and regain her wits within. 

"Haaa... That... Was almost bad."

**_<<My apologies, Eschaton. I did not realize that your ability to survive in such conditions had been tied to your mask.>> _**The scaled snout twisted around to face her, the thick, black forked tongue flicking out almost sheepishly as he kept his wings tucked around his torso. 

"Emet-Selch's work, not mine. I should've told you, really, beforehand but it just never came up yeah?" Patting the scales she was perched upon, the Warrior peered about at the wreckage of the moon and winced at the debris that was scattered about. "Wow. Yeah. We need to head to the Eighth shard. Much as I'm going to mourn the souls lost when I just straight-up kill that piece of Zodiark, we can't let the big version of Him get them."

**_<<I did not think you would be willing to sacrifice so many for the slimmest of advantages.>>_** Elidibus drew his head back slightly, minorly surprised as he rolled and began to gather the aether required to pull a rift into being. **_<<I thought you more altruistic than that.>>_**

"Every time a primal's fought, a ton of folks end up tempered and killed because of it. Sacrifices, waves of desperate people trying to let even one or two of their number get through to hurt the thing that's going to come for them regardless and destroy everything they hold dear." Priscilla grimaced, shifting a hand to the crystal strapped to her forearm and idly rubbing her thumb against it. "I'm more worried about how I'm gunna look Emet-Selch in the eye when I tell him I had to kill them."

The Emissary nodded slowly, before weaving his bulk through the patch of darkness before them and emerging out the other side.

* * *

It took three repetitions of the same ten minutes for Estinien to realize something was horribly wrong with how far removed he was from everything that vaguely implied civilization. From there, he had spent another realizing he just wasn't _fast_ enough as he was to get anywhere important within ten minutes. The fifth, he sucked it up and sank down into his rage, let it surge through him and endured the horrible grinding pain of transformation twice for practice before he reset to the hillside he was camped on. 

It was the sixth that got him to Ishgard in time to bellow out a message to where Aymeric was sitting on a roof, and a seventh for the Lord Commander to meet him part way. Unfortunately, he then misjudged where Alexander was and failed to make it before he reset once more to the hill. The eighth, however, managed to see him across the threshold with bare seconds to spare as the draconic form of Nidhogg thundered heavily into the water between the Primal's stilled thighs, throwing Aymeric and just barely managing to close his jaws around the elezen to protect him from the impact against the massive metal form he had narrowly missed. 

Estinien was fairly certain he was going to have a concussion, but the glyphed, glowing barrier denied the way time looped outside. Hauling himself onto the scarce bit of shore within the bubble, he almost delicately opened his maw and set a dazed and slightly battered Aymeric down. From there, it was a long moment to recover and then several painful seconds spent figuring out how to bloody well turn back. It took some coaxing, but he managed it, and eventually collapsed naked on the ground as the Lord Commander removed a layer and draped it over him to give him some protection against the cold.

"Your first bath in a month, and it only took some odd world-altering occurrence to prompt it." 

"Stuff it, de Borel. I didn't save you so that you could dredge this topic back up." Slowly sitting up, Estinien draped the sash about himself as if it was a loose shirt and glanced through the barrier in time to see a rabbit abruptly vanish and reappear several dozen fulms further out. "Any idea what the sodding hell is going on?"

"No, but if I were a betting man, I would say the Warrior of Light is likely involved. If not yet, then soon." Grimacing and gesturing towards the area outside of the barrier, Aymeric sat down and sighed. "Provided she yet manages to get free of whatever this is."

"She is." The voice drew the attention of both elezen, the Lord Commander drawing his sword in one smooth gesture as the dragoon rose into a partial feral crouch. At the sight of the weapon, the thin looking hyur in tattered grey robes flinched and leaned back, raising his hands to show he carried nothing more than a thick, weathered tome. "Peace! I, ahh... I'm not... _Your_ enemy. Your presence was expected. Another arrives soon, but he cannot meet me. I just..."

The stranger poked his fingers together for a moment as both elezen shared a glance. As Aymeric sheathed the sword, their company cleared his throat. 

"You... I'm not supposed to say... Ohh...!" Shifting his weight from foot to foot, the somewhat weaselly looking midlander with light brown hair turned back and forth as if trying to come to a decision before sighing and looking at the ground, poking his fingers together. "... I've been alone for so very long. Only the ones I Must Not Speak With for company, and two interlopers. It never said anywhere which was which. Will you stay with me? Not for long, just until Outside is normal again..."

"Hopefully not long at all, then. This sodding _manchild_ is going to drive me up the wall." Sitting back down with a grumble as the Lord Commander glanced back at him and smiled, the dragoon folded his arms and waited out the residual ache that lingered in his bones. Hopefully Aymeric would be able to ease some answers out of the strange fellow, diplomatic as the noble was.

* * *

Thancred hadn't exactly understood why the Crystal Exarch had suddenly gone pale one day and asked that he load up as many citizens from the Crystarium aboard Eden as he could in a two hour time period. Nor did he understand why the Tia then took Ryne aside for a brief talk and then bid the suddenly determined looking girl to make for the Thirteenth shard. When he tried to press for information, both of them told him there wasn't any time and that the former oracle would tell him once they were on their way. 

He was patient. The girl had yet to go back on her word, and G'raha was usually planning something anyways. It was clearly an emergency, and the way all of Il Mheg seemed to have turned up within ten minutes of that talk, King Titania themselves leading the surprisingly docile horde to the battlements of the Crystarium only underscored it.

Something big was going to happen. Something dangerous. Something that the Exarch didn't expect to win against in the long-term, clearly, and the moment he opened his mouth and started towards the Tia to give an _opinion_ on his suspicions, Feo Ul had flit over and pressed a finger against his mouth. 

"Trust in us to keep our precious [far-traveled friend] safe."

The gunbreaker hadn't _liked_ that, but with the way flowers were madly blooming everywhere he really had nothing that might convince the King to bring him into the loop. Eventually, he had boarded Eden and Ryne had begun to steer the titanic sin eater towards the stars. On the second day, as she rested and let Eden coast it's way through what he presumed was a lightless dark, the former oracle finally drew him away from the others and explained what the Exarch had told her. 

Zodiark was coming, she said. Coming for the First. The time dilation between the First and the Source had oscillated enough that they could get a little bit of a head start, but not much. They had to make their way to the Thirteenth and begin the process of converting it, hoping that even if Hydaelyn wasn't there, that the light-based aether they planned to convert the void there into would prove detrimental enough to keep Eden and the people aboard her safe. 

At the Exarch's best guess, they would get there roughly a month ago, depending on how the sin eater's ability to travel the stars worked. Which didn't make a whole lot of sense to the white-haired hyur, but what did he know about traveling through the rift? Not a whole hell of a lot, if he was honest. He spent his time supporting those that seemed to start losing hope and making sure Ryne took care of herself and rested. 

A week had passed since her announcement, and he found a surprising little garden within the sin eater that, while it didn't produce a whole lot, could be used to stretch their supplies for a time. When he asked about the way the fruit was all white, the former oracle had sighed and admitted that while it was similar, it wouldn't have the same effects as meol. It was just food, unaspected and all. Safe. 

By then, they had reached the swirling mass of pitch black void and she had needed to focus on the slower, if safer, method that involved teeny bits of void being turned into weak, lesser sin eaters and, one at a time, getting killed to disperse the then light-aspected aether. Two days in, and he found some of the civilians watching. Four days in, and he was giving them pointers on how to kill the sin eaters. 

A week and a half later, and there was a steadily growing squadron of people learning how to fight and practicing on the weak sin eaters that they all knew could neither actually kill them, nor turn them, and their progress through the void began to have noticeable effects. 

It wasn't until they had drifted through the Thirteenth for a full month and a half that Eden began to pick up an unusual surge in the ambient aether. When it registered as light-based, Ryne let out a gleeful yell and they all watched through Eden's eyes as Hydaelyn, accompanied by a cloud of people that drifted along in flowing light blue robes, approached. It took a moment to calm everyone and explain what Hydaelyn was, but by the time the Mothercrystal took up a position nearby they were all gazing up at the projected image in awe.


	59. Chapter 59

"So, uhh..." 

Elidibus stared at the floor before the crystal statue, pondering the predicament he found himself in. Priscilla had crouched in front of him, and was idly stabbing one of her swords into the floor, halfheartedly digging. Small chunks of rock littered the ground around her as she heaved a sigh. 

"I don't suppose you've got anything to get me down right quick-like, do you?"

"Teleportation via rift requires enough room for the individual to be ejected relatively safely back out into the world. I could attempt to burrow through. To reach the required depth would take perhaps a bell, however the resulting tremors of such would very likely awaken Him prematurely." Glancing downwards, the Emissary mentally measured the distance and took the opportunity to try and study the primal's aether. "While Emet-Selch may have finer honed senses when it comes to sensing aether, even to my eye does He visibly stir."

"So He's waking up on his own pretty quickly then." Pushing herself to her feet, the Warrior sheathed the sword and turned to study the statue against the back wall. "Think He can feel the big version of himself that ate the smaller one?"

"Such... is a possibility. Are you thinking that you may be able to persuade Him to work alongside Hydaelyn?" 

"Nah. But y'know, that's not a half bad option either." Turning slightly to flash the white robed Ascian a grin, Priscilla tucked her hands onto her hips. "The way I see it, we've got two options. One, wait until he digs himself out and hope that I get a passing whack at him on his way out. Considering He can probably just teleport without seeming to physically move that's not all that likely to happen. Option two is we risk digging down. We've got to get me into contact with Him, after all."

"If He uses Mitron's Secret of transportation, then I cannot follow Him. However, if He passes through a void rift, I may be of some assistance with that."

"One in three shot, then. I don't like it." Her face scrunched up in a grimace. "Fourth option is you talk to Him, bait Him, and get Him to dig Himself out manually so I can take a whack at Him."

"In your experience, how many strikes do you believe it will take for you to kill this fragmen-" Turning abruptly, Elidibus raised a hand only to pause, slowly lowering it as a swirl of darkness opened. A polite nod was offered to Polydegmon as he stepped out. "...I had wondered what became of you."

"-Please-. The crellbron that guard Hydaelyn have one singular job. I simply had the good fortune of finding myself within proximity to the Mothercrystal and thus enjoying that selfsame protection as well." Folding his arms, the dark robed Ascian shuddered. 

"Poly! Perfect timing." The Warrior bound over, beaming before pointing towards the floor. "We can't get down there without waking Him up."

"Tis no time to waste then, with how he rouses. Do we know where Zodiark Himself currently is, local fragment notwithstanding?" Shooting a glance towards the Emissary, Polydegmon slowly uncrossed his arms and made his way over to the hole Priscilla had started.

"Chewing on the First. The Empty seems to be giving Him trouble." Polite Smile Number Three curled the white robed Ascian's lips upwards slightly, and he inclined his head politely in thanks as the floor abruptly vanished. "Eschaton insisted that we risk checking before we arrived, concerned as she is about the Exarch."

"He's my friend, alright? I'm worried about the Chai's, and Feo Ul and everyone else there too." Throwing her hands up, the Warrior hunched her shoulders defensively as Polydegmon continued to deepen the hole.

"Friend. Such a _gentle _term for the candle he bears for you." Brushing off his hands, Polydegmon turned to survey the two of them and then gestured to the hole. "Well? What are you waiting for. _I'm_ certainly not going to go first."

* * *

One by one, the massive gates within Lyhe Mheg swung shut and shimmered, sealing behind the last of the stragglers that the pixies had ushered through. Lips pressed into a thin line, Feo Ul lowered their scepter and let out a slight sigh before turning to smile fondly at the Crystal Exarch as he approached with a jar of honey and a plate of crackers. Drifting closer, they reached out to deftly scoop up both offered items, giggling and letting their staff float in mid-air beside them. 

"The gates are shut. Even if the world is devoured, here we shall remain safe for a time."

"You have my thanks, Feo Ul. Without your aid the people of Norvrandt would be lost." Moving to the edge of the balcony, G'raha stared out at the crowds that were slowly being dispersed to rooms and other sections of the Crystarium. Refuges from what was left of their world, and still his planned reserves were not yet taxed. "We owe you a great debt for your aid."

"We are eternal, [time-lost kitten]. We live for the here and the now. And right now, there is a world-eater trying to devour my [snacks]-" King Titania paused, frowning at one of the gates as their head twitched slightly to the side as if hearing something. 

"What is it?"

"Hmpf. [Ratman] thinks he can get me to come and save him, does he?" 

* * *

It was a sight to behold, watching the way Zodiark sank into the ground and left swaths of empty air in His wake. His progress slowed somewhat when He reached the Empty, but with the way both water and earth aether had been returned to normal it wasn't as though He was having the worst time with it. The Ascians huddled close to one another, with only Emet-Selch and Zenos standing apart. The former had taken to muttering under his breath almost casually, eyes partially lidded as he focused and the latter periodically tested the crystalline restraints that bound his wrists together. 

"Great-Grandfather."

"-n't that just steal his victory right out from-hm?" Glancing over, the Architect heaved a sigh and turned properly to face the Garlean. "_What_."

"Can you remove these?"

"Technically." A haughty sniff tipped Emet-Selch's chin upwards as he not so subtly eyed the looming crystal a scant few hundred fulms away. "I rather enjoy living, however. There is no guarantee you would do more than break yourself across that eikon, Boy."

"Would you stop my Beast if she were here in my place?" A grin spread across Zenos' face only to wither under the sharp glare the Founding Father leveled at him.

"If _she_ was here, then we would all very likely already have died one way or another due to a mix of impatience and an utter lack of tactics. That is the eldest and most powerful of _primals_, fool boy, and empowered further by..." Trailing off, the Architect furrowed his brows and looked towards the huddled Ascians. Specifically, towards Lahabrea as the Speaker kicked at a rock with an irritated look across his face. "Hold that thread of thought for but a moment. Speaker."

"Emet-Selch." The title was shot back with more than a onze of venom, causing pale gold eyes to roll as the Architect stepped closer, Zenos on his heels. "Decided to offer more of the Shards to Him to gain more useless answers?"

"This was _your_ Concept. Nevertheless, do you happen to recall if the failsafes that were discussed early on should He ever manage to untether himself from the Star were ever implemented?"

"What? Of course they were, why would-" Lahabrea abruptly paused, mouth open as he stared at the smugly smirking Emet-Selch. "... He may have overwritten such. It would have been impossible for him to gain such gravitas otherwise." 

"Or devised a loop hole. Designed to protect the Star as He was, He should not have been able to leave it. I have studied His aether for some time now, and for all that He continues to consume I have yet to note any changes to His own levels of amassed power." Turning slightly to glance at Zodiark as He continued to glide slowly through the ground, absorbing it as He went, the Architect tutted and shook his head. "It goes in, and disappears. All the while, the Convocation members remain within Him. Mitron?"

"It... It does _feel_ like there might be an eddy there..." Hunching his shoulders as he pushed himself to his feet, the Traveler shuffled to the edge of the group and squinted. 

"We know that he could manifest our Secrets in tandem, as he did against Hydaelyn. Polydegmon admitted that his existence lacked something, and while I had originally believed he was simply acting over-dramatic it may not be so. Perhaps He too is looking for what it is that is lacked." Tapping his knuckles against his jaw, Emet-Selch glanced down at the shackles about his wrist. Lahabrea scoffed, shaking his head and turning to look towards the vast expanse of the Empty that had yet to be devoured.

"A vague concept. And not much to go on." 

"I can only think that He seeks to keep us alive by and large to decipher what it is that we have, that his own Convocation lacks." A grand, sweeping gesture of white gloves indicated the view that the Speaker was currently studying. "Why _here_? Why start with this, the Empty? Certainly, He _must_ be able to sense the remaining fragments of Himself."

"What would be the theoretical cost of coming here from His timeline? What did it cost your twin?" Folding his arms as best he could, the Speaker frowned, looking annoyed as Emet-Selch shifted uncomfortably.

"... Roughly four hundred and fifty mortal shells worth of aether, in addition to the preservative crystal that encased each and every one of them and his own efforts."

"Mortal shells worth of aether?" Zenos canted his head to the side, peering at his Great-Grandfather and drawing a huff from the Founding Father as he lifted his chin as Lahabrea blinked and then barked out a laugh.

"Eschaton's corpses? I knew you collected them, I didn't realize you stockpiled them for a rainy day."

"It was _not_ for a rainy day. It was-"

"Well now. Perhaps I underestimated your dedication." Grinning widely, the blond swordsman let the glare that Emet-Selch leveled at both him and the Speaker slide right past. "I understand now why she shows such devotion to you, that she would shirk my advances."

"Can we -_please-_ get back on topic here. Are we agreed that He seems to be gathering resources more than simply bolstering His own strength?" Drawing himself up with a scowl across his face, the Architect continued to glare as Lahabrea patted the air. 

"Agreed. And that portal must be maintained by Mitron and the Convocation members within him, otherwise He would likely lose more than he gained. It also stands to reason that this is why He isn't bothering to take the time to convert the aether around Him before devouring it. What are our options?"

"Fight, flee, and stall which would essentially function as a mix of the former two." Zenos idly flexed and tested the strength of the crystal about his wrists once more, eyes narrowing in displeasure at the lack of progress. "You seemed to have an idea, Great-Grandfather."

"Because I _do_. None of you are going to like it, however."


	60. Chapter 60

Aymeric smiled diplomatically as he watched the certainly unusual individual in front of him chatter away. It was something of an easy task to smoothly interject a question here or there and prompt for more information, but for every twenty words the stranger sitting with him spoke only one or two ever seemed to have anything to do with what he really wanted to know. 'Sors', as he had unwillingly named himself, was either particularly good at being distracted or deliberately unwilling to do more than tangent from topic to topic while leaving most of the question unanswered. 

"-and then they looked at the dhalmel and realized it was an animal, even though it was part of the hunt they sort of wanted to see if it was friendly! So they named it 'Flexi-neck' and of -course- they had to take it and bring it home, but it was hard! Because they had to be on a _boat_ and it was really _tall_ and kept bonking it's head on the ceiling. Nobody knows what happened to it after they released it into the jungle! It just sort of went... -poof-!" Sors spread his hands, as if mesmerized for a moment, eyes wide and staring off blindly into a middle distance. 

"I see. A grand adventure indeed, ser Sors. The shapeshifter-"

"_She_ went on and talked to the trees you know. But even _she_ didn't know where Flexi-neck had gone! So she went and searched and thought maybe if she looked hard enough she could return the beasty to it's home-"

"De Borel, why are you even bothering? It's clear he's insane." The irritated and exhausted drawl from the dragoon deepened the Lord Commander's smile, and he glanced over to find Estinien sprawled out in the grass with his hands behind his head. 

"Does this not mean that I should be doubly kind to him?"

"Kind? Oh, nonono, Flexi-neck was a _different_ kind of dhalmel, them. Just like him. But you know that, don't you?" Sors perked up before wilting under the glare the dragoon shot him. "... Well, you _are_... You always were. It almost didn't _work_ on you..."

"Enough sodding half-words. _What_ almost didn't work on me?"

"I don't think anything's sodden, really. Far too dry on this hill for that. Oh, but it _does_ remind me of that time when-"

Aymeric bit back a sigh as he glanced at Estinien, patting the air in a bid for patience and drawing a grumble from the dragoon. "Sors, please. We've been here for bells-"

"You really haven't, actually." Poking his fingers together, the weaselly looking hyur hunched and drew his knees up against his chest. "The loops don't _stack_. It's just ten minutes. Time doesn't actually move in here. That's why you see it all going back to the first marker. You just carried your memories back. Like a sort of 'if you knew then what you knew now' thing. Everything you did wasn't re-done, it was undone and done again. A single set that you _experience_ multiple times." 

"You know quite a bit about it." Kind smile back in place, Aymeric leaned forward and down enough that he could catch his odd conversation partner's eye. "If time doesn't move in here, how are we able to talk?"

"Do you know, the story of this primal?" Lips pursing into a thin smile, Sors scooped up his book and flipped through until he found a specific page. "Alexander. It foresaw all infinite possibilities of it's existence, and sent back a clockwork couerl to nudge the events of the world unto the point of it's own defeat. It knew, that it would drain the land of all aether and inevitably be the End if it was allowed to do otherwise. Alexander is a weapon with sentience and no conscience, designed to test and pass judgement. It judged the life of the Star more worthwhile to save, than it's own freedom and existence."

"And two Au Ra, along with the Warrior of Light and the help of the Ironworks allowed this to come to be. The Au Ra sacrificed themselves to form this barrier, and the eeeevil goblins were no more! No more, all dead. All gone. Lost like so many sands trickling free from an hourglass... Alexander manipulates time. Alexander brought judgement upon this Star and found everything, ultimately, satisfactory. Alexander is joined by the two souls of the Au Ra, frozen forever in a single instant. But... Here we are. Time flexes outside, two markers set to drive men mad, to incite panic and terror." 

"Did you know? The Warrior of Light has come here before. Passing through the barrier does nothing to them, while it repels all others. Do you know why? Time moves in a strange, slow dance. And Alexander deemed her _worthy_. Just like you. Just like him. Zodiark is playing with marbles that He stole from a Concept that screamed and screamed and _screamed_ when He tore them from Alexander's head, but still that Alexander did nothing. Do you know why?"

Snapping the book shut, the hyur tucked it against his chest, sighing and lowering his head to rest his chin against his knees. "Because Alexander saw all futures in an instant, the very moment he awoke. Because if Time already has a master, then the _other_ will be more cautious, more wary, and realize it cannot touch this Sphere. Because Alexander saw the strength and resilience of mortals and accepted them as stewards of this Star. You are here, you are Allowed, because you are _worthy_."

"... You seem to know an awful lot about the primal." 

"I read a lot." A sheepish smile was offered to the elezen, before Sors started to rock where he sat. "Out there, ten minutes is passing. In here, it's just a single moment, frozen forever. Out beyond, past where air becomes thin and gravity loses it's hold, the end of the ten minutes waits to come to pass. I can't leave. But him... He's _special_. He always was, right from the start, but not because he was naturally that way. No, it was because he _fought_ for it." 

"Estinien?" Aymeric glanced back at where the dragoon was rolling his eyes. 

"Everyone you know, everyone you see, they're all pieces of _people_. Pieces of who used to live here, fragments of the past living, growing and dying in an endless cycle. Too fast, too often, and even the things a soul _should not forget_ become fuzzy..." Trailing off, the hyur shuddered. "Beasts have no need for the laws of civilization. Wolves raised to race in a pack never feel at home without the loam beneath their feet bearing the scent of their kin. The souls of men _forget_, but dragons... For them, the cycle is a _choice_. This is why they have a home that allows them to rest and choose their End." 

"Yes, and their vitality is in their _eyes_. I was a bloody fool, and tainted by Nidhogg-"

"Have you seen dragons change their form? They cannot. Lahabrea must needs build a construct to house his draconic form. Thus was the union between Hraesvelgr and Shiva doomed. It is not _Nidhogg_ that can change his form. Nidhogg is gone. The soul remembers the important things, but the sands of time scour the surface clean. But if you mix a little bit of _dragon, _with memories that span the ages..." Sors bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth as he let out a quiet, frustrated sound. "So much _lost._.."

"Look, if I could bloody well turn into a dragon before the Eyes controlled me, it would've already sodding happened." Sitting up, the white haired elezen scowled as the odd hyur with the book slowly peered over at him. 

"Didn't it, though?"

"What? No, it-"

"Did. Estinien _Wyrmblood_, clad in Drachen scaled armor, who became the very thing he hunted. A beast, driven by revenge and hatred. He who flies the sky with his Belly Spear in hand. Lit without by azure glow, as the dragon within roars and unleashes it's own chorus. Bathed in dragon's blood as you were, can you say for sure that you never -ever- accidentally got any in your mouth? That none ever mingled with your own, seeping through your own cuts?" A truly curious expression was leveled towards the dragoon as Estinien's expression deepened further into an ugly, silent snarl. "This is not a thing of shame. You did not turn because your soul remembered."

"Remembered what, if I may ask?" Aymeric shifted to put himself between the two of them, breaking the white haired elezen's line of sight and causing him to look away with a bitter expression. Sors blinked, eyes refocusing on the Lord Commander and tilting his head to the side. 

"Two beasts, hurtling through the night with the easy grace of predators, dancing among the trees."

* * *

Polydegmon lifted Priscilla out of the hole and set her down on the solid floor as Elidibus drifted up beside him. It had been a close call, but some quick thinking had settled the shard just the same as their teamwork had settled others in the past. A glance towards the former Emet-Selch confirmed his intent to head to Hydaelyn with a nod. 

"There _is_ something else you should know, Warrior. Hydaelyn bid me to head to the primal Alexander to find a useful 'spear'. When I arrived, there wasn't anyone there. Do you happen to know who She might have hoped I would have found there?" 

"I mean, when I think 'spear' Estinien's the first one I think of." Frowning, Priscilla tilted her head and shrugged. "He should be somewhere between Moghome and Ishgard. She mention anything else about this spear? Or about how powerful Zodiark is now?" 

"Not particularly. It occurs to me however that we are fortunate that Zodiark did not enter this timeline any sooner than he did. If he had, he might have managed to get the souls that were within the fragment of the Sources moon, instead of simply spent crystal." A slight wave of his hand accompanied Polydegmon's sigh, and he brushed himself off even as he turned to start pulling a rift into existence. "I would rather like to get my part in this over with. Elidibus can take you anywhere you feel you might need to go."

"Only one thing for it. We should go to Zodiark and see what we can do about kicking his ass." A glance towards the Emissary curled a grin across Priscilla's face as she eased closer and gently nudged him. "Man you went about as white as your robes there for a moment. Come on, what other options do we have? We've got to do _something_."

"Facing an empowered version of my former god does not rank high on the list of possible 'somethings', Eschaton. Forgive me if I am... Reluctant."

"Tell you what. Spit me out onto him, and then focus on getting the other Ascian's free. Does that sound good? Certainly lower risk for you, right?" Another nudge against his side drew a quiet sigh as Polite Smile Number One reflexively settled into place across his lips. 

"... You will be the death of me yet, Eschaton. Come then. Let us see how close I dare to bring you." 

* * *

Azys Lla _felt_ empty. It didn't matter how many of the halls he walked, it was only his own footsteps that echoed back to him. The refugees from the Ninth had already relocated elsewhere, and the Ascians that had agreed to help had disappeared into rifts generally the same time the Convocation members. It was frustrating, to say the least. 

Urianger drank the same tea for what felt like an eternity, and decided to spend the time practicing and catching up on his reading. At one point, he had dreamed of having all the time in the world to learn things. Surely, this hadn't been what the astrologian had meant but an opportunity was an opportunity. 

When everything reset after ten minutes, including his reserves of stamina and energy, the possibilities for experimentation were _endless_.


	61. Chapter 61

Zenos threw his head back and laughed, startling the other Ascians out of their stunned horror. They shared glances, looking between the Garlean Emperor and both paragons before turning to start discussing the plan among themselves. Emet-Selch stood his ground, eyeing the Speaker as Lahabrea slowly reached out as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to punch the Architect or strangle him. 

"That is -not- a plan! It hinges on a theory we _have no proof of!_" 

"The proof is that we yet live, and the fact that the Convocation members within Zodiark are alive and well. Thriving, in fact." Arms shifting as if he wanted to fold them, Emet-Selch eyed the crystal that bound his wrists and prevented him from doing so before tutting. "This type of portal is likely a finicky thing, if it requires all of their focus to maintain. Such would be a simple task for Mitron to disrupt, our own efforts notwithstanding." 

"And when it collapses, and we are all torn to shreds? What happens then!" 

"-Please-, I will readily admit that it is not the _best_ plan, however I don't see -you- coming up with ways to stem nor stop His efforts. We have most of the Convocation here, Lahabrea, as well as two dozen allied sundered. It comes down to a proper delegation of forces. Halmarut and Igeyorhm will focus on the tethers to keep you from being pulled in if you somehow manage to fail to escape in time."

"Not yourself?" The Weaver quirked a brow behind his mask, and the Emet-Selch glanced over with a sigh. 

"I full intend to _live_, do not misunderstand my plan nor misjudge my intent. I intend to act as the distraction, along with the boy and thus will remain far enough from the portal that the risk of getting caught will be minimal at best. Do not underestimate the resilience of Garleans, and I myself still bear Hydaelyn's Tempering. If we are all in agreement, present your wrists that I might remove the shackles."

* * *

** _<<There is a problem.>>_ **

Priscilla blinked as they shifted from _moving_ through a rift to that cold in between place, tucking her legs up against her chest so that Elidibus had an easier time of curling around her. Tapping his scales, she prompted him to continue and studied the snout and eye that pushed between two of the coils.

** _<<I lack the sensitivity that Emet-Selch lords over the others, however the Ascians we seek are nowhere to be seen. Instead, Zodiark floats and spins amidst the Empty, periodically emitting flashes of aether.>>_ **

The Warrior's eyes widened, and she focused for a long moment.

_<<Ffffite?>>_

** _<<Perhaps. This complicates my approach.>>_ **

She reached out and patted his snout, grinning crookedly. 

_<<Fite.>>_

_ **<<You ask me to fight something I have no hope of winning against.>>** _

Priscilla shifted and scooted closer, leaning in to lightly bonk her head against his snout before straightening and grinning wider. One large red eye stared at her before slowly closing as Elidibus thought long and hard about what, exactly, he was going to do.

* * *

Within Zodiark's corporeal form, several fights were happening at the same time. The invading Ascians had essentially pooled their efforts to keep themselves safe, and weathered the Primal's internal defenses as best they could. It was a downhill battle, but they were reaching their goal and eventually found the chamber that housed a rippling field through which could be seen a version of the Source.

Five Convocation members floated around it, hands outstretched, and as Lahabrea broke from the group he led the assault by hurling his trident at the Elidibus that merely flicked a finger towards. A tendril of void lashed outwards to catch the trident, launching it back and narrowly missing Emmerololth as Halmarut caught her by the robes and bodily hauled her out of the way. Pashtarot, along with Fandaniel, focused their efforts on covering Mitron from the other Tempered Ascians as he started towards the ripple in the center of the chamber. 

A green sword, thin and pointed like the needle of a compass, intercepted him. Lohgrif batted it upwards with an axe that burned itself into existence and put his back to the youngest of the group, even as he shouted for him to go and the Traveler didn't need to be told twice as his counterpart cocked his head to watch for a moment. 

"You always protected me, you know." The lips under the mask pulled into a frown as Zodiark's Mitron settled to hover nearby. "I wish there was some other way, but I have to kill you."

"If you can, I would be impressed. How many times have we sparred? Wind feeds the flames, my boy."

* * *

Emet-Selch and Zenos (the latter, thankfully, having appropriated his great-grandfather's pants and overcoat) drifted through the corridors and sought to be subtle. It was easier with the others causing the commotion they were, but soon they would have to start making noise of their own. Another glance at the ambient aether and souls contained within the walls confirmed it for the Architect, however. 

They were getting closer to his goal. He could see _her_, smothered beneath layers of aether and wondered at the differences between this version of the Warrior and his Priscilla. The Blessing of Light that he had expected to find tethered to her being had been stripped away, and as they rounded a corner to find the chamber he sought he realized why she looked stretched thin. 

There was no body. Simply fragments of blue crystal with tethers of Zodiark's power between them to keep them bound together. It was similar to seeing a dissected body, torso surgically carved open with the ribcage spread wide, and for a moment Emet-Selch had to fight with himself to force his nausea back down. Here and here, hanging from tendrils attached to the ceiling were parts of her consciousness. There, and there, the very core of her being was fractured and set open for inspection and study. Newer scars laid over the old ones across the soul where she had been put back together and taken apart once repeatedly. 

"Zenos."

"Is this what we seek, then?" The blond swordsman glanced back and forth between the amassed pieces of crystal and the Founding Father. A nod answered him in addition to the way the air around the Architect was slowly, subtly starting to vibrate. One gloved hand was raised, before Emet-Selch pointed at the metal badge that hung from the lapel of his coat and snapped his fingers. It rippled, fusing together and elongating into a sword that Zenos grasped by the hilt with a grin. "Then it is time for our counterattack."

"'Tis indeed time. The closest way out is to your left. I will follow once I have gathered these pieces." 

The current Garlean Emperor lifted the sword in a salute before turning and beginning to hack through the wall.

* * *

Elidibus flinched as Zodiark rippled the air with His pain, having come out a fair distance above and, reluctantly and only after much in the way of reassurance that the Warrior made it a habit to freefall from ridiculous heights let her drop. Tracking her descent, he flinched again at the way she gathered her aether and impacted against the sloped side. Both blades drew sparks as they carved shallowly down the outside of the crystal, and while he had no doubt that the Warrior had been _noticed_ found it somewhat disheartening that she was by and large ignored. 

When she ground to a halt, she hauled herself up to balance on the sloped edge and braced herself enough that she could start hacking away with one of her swords. It was only when she paused and gathered herself to sunder into the crystal that the Primal rippled the air with pain. When she hauled herself up and started fleeing across the surface only to come up short, he had the feeling something horrible was about to happen and was proven right when the entire side lit up and let out a sheer wall of aether that launched her from the surface of the crystal and out into one of the deeper trenches nearby. 

Elidibus gestured, opening a rift beside him and another along her trajectory, turning to catch her as she passed through his work and was ejected out beside him. Wisps of smoke curled up from her, and she slowly shook her head as she tried to figure out where she suddenly was. 

"'Ey 'bus..."

"You survived?"

"Nope." Shaking her head to clear it, Priscilla sheathed one sword and scrubbed her hand across her mask. "That _hurt_, son've a _bitch_. We, uhh... We might wanna move, He's doing it again."

"Aware of my presence as He is, he has begun to block my ability to produce rifts."

"Then just drop us on an angle away from Him. Three hundred fulms oughta do." A weak grin was offered to him, and the Emissary rotated in mid-air before they both abruptly began to plummet. The next wave of aether that came for them was split as the Warrior twisted and struck with the sword, opening a wide enough channel that they emerged unscathed under the blast before it finished. 

"He seems intent upon not allowing you closer." 

"Seems so. I-Uhh... Why are you painted orange?"

"Beg pardo-?"

* * *

Estinien thundered through the sky with the grace of a creature that had only recently, within the last day, figured out how flight worked with the form of Nidhogg. As such, when he spread his claws and sought to try and catch Priscilla and Elidibus, he rather more ran into them and crushed them against his chest as he hung a hard left to avoid the next wave of aether that tore through the sky towards them. It clipped him, sending him rolling and cursing before he leveled off and circled around the primal. 

Muffled sounds were coming from his clawed hands, and he did what he could to tuck them against the blue cloth around his neck like a collar so that they could hold on. 

"Windbreak! Thanks Ophi!" A ripple caught the corner of his eye, and he twitched his head to the side enough to catch the faint ripples in the air around the people he carried. Priscilla pulled her mask back into place and waved with a grin. "Estinien! Perfect! Drop Elidibus and let's circle back around! I can't fly, so I'll be counting on yo-"

A cracking sound rent the air, drawing their attention to the Primal as fissures spread across the body. Pain emanated out in waves as a subvocal shriek was torn from Zodiark. Pieces collapsed inwards, even as dark shapes swarmed outwards like ants. Multicoloured flashes of lights sparked outwards, following the fleeing figures before two more came down to intercept the others and buy them some space. She recognized one of them immediately, considering Emet-Selch abruptly widened and unfolded into his larger, four armed form to give those behind him what cover he could. 

"We gotta get over there! Estinien? Can you take us there?"

**[I can throw you at the primal and flank.]**

"Perfect! Ophi? I-oh." Blinking, Priscilla leaned in to watch the transformation as Elidibus _elongated_, scales blooming smoothly across his form as his white robes disappeared. Two wings unfurled as he uncoiled from Estinien's side, diving down and arrowing out towards the Ascians as a larger, mirrored duplicate drove powerful fangs down towards the Architect. 

* * *

Lahabrea led the efforts to maintain a protective barrier, those of the others that could spare the aether throwing themselves into a unified casting to bolster his work. Those who couldn't were shuffled to the center of the group as Igeyorhm tried to do what she could to prevent any of them from succumbing to the wave of Tempering that had washed out with the latest blast. Emet-Selch's bulk had soaked the worst of it, but the residual effect of lingering for so long within Zodiark himself had started to catch up to some of them. Now, slowly but surely, the large winged serpent that Zodiark's Elidibus had turned into was shifting and harassing the Architect until he had no choice but to move out from between the primal and the others. 

The staff came around, barely missing as the fanged maw recoiled and ducked, replaced by the tail as the Emissary aimed to wrap around the arm that held the weapon and pull. Emet-Selch lashed out with his claws to rake deep furrows through the scales, but failed to loosen the tail enough to pull free until fangs shot past his face and sank in deep next to the freely bleeding gashes he had opened. The abrupt appearance startled the Architect for a moment before he realized no, Elidibus did not in fact have two heads, but that this was in fact the untempered one that had presumably remained in his Wife's company. Which meant...

He didn't have to look hard to catch sight of her. She was leaping free of the dragon that had just barreled into Zodiark and ever so slightly rocked the massive crystal. She was _alive_, she was _there_, and just those few facts alone were enough to bolster his slowly waning moral. 

Emet-Selch hauled his arm free, re-centered himself between the primal and the untempered Ascians and caught the faint ripple of the Tempered Mitron's Secret triggering. There, it meant to move him to the other side of the group so that the next wave of aether that rang out could catch the group. A twitch of his shoulders had his wings sweeping back to encircle the group even as he abruptly found himself facing the other way, and a thought sent tendrils of his aether back to haul his allies tight against his bulk. Lahabrea's indignant bellow would have drawn a smirk from the Architect save for the way pain bloomed through him with the void aether that tore into his hide. 

It hurt. When compared to the fangs of the hydra that had bit down to his soul, it was _nothing_. Emet-Selch focused and reached for one of his Secrets, and prayed it would work.

Elidibus recoiled away from his counterpart, circling wide and shoving the insidious whispers of the Primal's tempering to the back of his mind. Squaring off against the tempered version of himself, he immediately noted several differences between their strength, but let a smile curl the corners of his reptilian snout upwards as he watched the Emissary before him start to sway and droop. 

His venom, undoubtedly. But most assuredly hammed up to invite a moment of overconfidence. It was a simple enough thing to pull his smaller form back into place and hover above the ground, inclining his head politely.

"I must admit, I never expected to meet myself upon the battlefield."

** _<<I find myself in agreement. However, I also never believed myself capable of turning on our Lord.>>_ **

"Is it not the job of the Heart, to run counter to the wishes of the head?" Mildly Amused Smile Number Three eased into place as he folded one hand behind his back. "Do you truly believe that I would give an inch of ground here, if it meant disappointing another?"

* * *

Pain had been a companion for so long that when it finally subsided, her first reaction was a sense of confused loss. It felt like a constant companion had been pulled away, and left her to drift in space. Alone, save for the almost tender brush of pointed claws against her. 

She remembered something similar had happened before. Her allegiance had been demanded, and when she had opened her eyes to see what it was that had her in it's grasp had cursed and snarled and spit. She expected it to happen again. She expected those claws to dig in, to rend and tear, and braced herself accordingly. 

It never came. Instead, she felt herself gently wrapped before eyes that weren't her own opened and granted her a clarity of vision. 

In the distance, Zodiark. Ahead, a white robed form stalled for time by talking to a large, winged snake. The air rippled as water turned to ice and back to water again and failed to penetrate the defenses around them, four Ascians surrounding the group that she knew was being protected by whatever had a hold of her. She didn't know where she was, only that the wordless understanding of which of those beings were allies and which were enemies flowed through her. 

She knew, too, that all it would take to allow her to fight was her own willingness to do so. When she tested the thoughts for a lie, a clear band of white passed across her sensibilities. Whomever it was, they could not lie. Whomever it was, bore Hydaelyn's Blessing.

An impossibility. She didn't understand, and when she reached for the source of the meanings and thoughts that mixed with her own she found herself held at bay and flinched from the thought that there wasn't enough _time_ to explain. Pain tickled across her senses, kept at arms length, the pain of another that she experienced second-hand. 

A fist clenched. Three more followed suit. 

She would fight.

* * *

Lahabrea was simultaneously at an advantage and disadvantage as he split his defenses between the Tempered Lohgrif and Emmerololth that tried to get through Emet-Selch's shielding wings. Every time the Water-Bearer tried to use an attack, the Speaker redirected it and used it to bolster his next attempt to withstand the flames that washed out across the singed feathers surrounding the Ascians. Water fueled ice, but ice was melted by fire. It was a tentative balance that was achieved, as behind him Pashtarot, Fandaniel, Lohgrif and Mitron faced off against the Tempered Mitron and Pashtarot.

So long as Zodiark continued to ignore them in favour of the dragon and flea that kept jumping about His rapidly compacting frame, they could last long enough for him to find some sort of advantage somewhere. All the Speaker needed was an inch, a single opportunity to be on anything but the defensive, and-

A familiar form with two curved, wicked black blades bolted past and hit the Tempered Lohgrif with the force of a much larger creature, staggering him. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Lahabrea turned and focused, pointing down and then up to encase the Tempered Emmerololth in a pillar of ice. Closing his hand into a fist, he grit his teeth and thought about how much of his aether it would take to destroy her. 

And _hesitated_. 

Zodiark's Lohgrif hit the pillar of ice with as much of his power as he could manage while being harassed by the Warrior, succeeding in breaking her free before the two of them turned and fled back towards the Primal. It freed the Speaker up to turn and launch a spear of ice towards the Tempered Pashtarot, who reevaluated the situation and turned to join Zodiark's Mitron in a tactical retreat. The Tempered Elidibus hissed softly but joined them, breaking away from the standoff he had been having with the untempered version of himself. 

That left the area around them blessedly calm for a few moments, long enough for them to gather their wits and look towards the Warrior of Light that stood nearby, eyeing them cautiously. 

"I'm surprised. I thought you were out there, fighting Zodiark." Planting his trident into the ground, Lahabrea reached down to help one of the cowering sundered Ascians to their feet, glancing back towards Priscilla. 

**<<She is.>>**

"What? But she's-" A glance towards the Primal confirms it, although the Tempered Ascians that had retreated seemed to be working in tandem to drive her and the dragon away. A roar and a flash of light successfully separate the two from Zodiark, and they settled into an almost lazy aerial circle to keep an eye on them all. Looking back towards the Warrior of Light nearby, Lahabrea narrowed his eyes and thought about it for a moment. "You're not our Eschaton, then. Just Priscilla."

"The only reason why I'm not slitting your throat for what you did to Thancred is because you _seem_ to be fighting that thing." One wicked, curved black sword was flourished towards him, and the Speaker worked to stifle the irritated response that leapt to his lips. "I'm only going to ask this once, but what... What's going _on_?"

"You _made_ her a _SHADE!?_" The words were all but shrieked from nearby as Polydegmon stepped from a rift, looking between the Warrior and Emet-Selch. 

**<<I asked her if she wanted to fight. A temporary solution to the state of her soul, but that's by and large _your_ problem now I believe.>>**

"You don't get to TOUCH HER SOUL!" 

**<<You -kissed- my Wife. I consider the debt repaid.>>**


	62. Chapter 62

"We've got to get down there somehow." Priscilla, one sword sheathed to free up the hand that grasped the cloth around Estinien's neck, leaned to the side to stare down at the Tempered Ascians as they gathered around their hurt god. She didn't quite know what it was that had caused so much damage to Him, but she _did_ know that when He had transitioned to His limbed form with the circle of dark crystal behind Him, chunks had been falling off. He seemed stable for now, but that just meant the Warrior wished she had been able to hit Him _harder_.

**[I've lost two sodding chunks of wing already in the attempt.]**

She winced, glancing along the scaled length of Estinin's draconic form. A few chunks of wing was an understatement. Dragons blood ran down his hide in rivulets from the multiple gouges in his hide, and he was missing the last fulm or so of his tail. He was missing three full panels from his wings, and kept twisting as he wobbled through the air to make sure he kept some semblance of level. 

"Even if I drop first, they'll be able to kill me before I hit Zodiark and He can adjust my trajectory anyways to ensure I miss." Grimacing, the Warrior tugged lightly on the cloth and pointed out with the sword towards the clustered Ascians that were slowly pulling further away from the primal. "Let's regroup with the others, maybe they've got an idea."

Estinien grunted in response, coiling through the air and turning to start making for the others. One blue eye was focused on Zodiark at all times, keeping an eye on the primal before the air began to thrum softly. 

**[Bloody hells. Is it trying to run?]**

"I don't-?"

The air above Zodiark cracked like an egg and split, and with a ringing crystalline scream Hydaelyn descended through the rift above to crash heavily into Her dark crystal counterpart. She bore Him mercilessly to the ground, a swarm of crellbron spiraling outwards around her and mitigating the counter attacks made by the Tempered Ascians. A secondary impact rang out as Zodiark hit the ground hard, sending a shockwave out that raced the dragon towards the Ascians as they hastily raised defenses of their own. 

Large clawed hands reached up to catch Estinien, stealing his momentum and putting the three of them into a lazy spin as Emet-Selch deftly scooped them down and into the safety of the dome that protected the others. As it sealed behind them, the dragon was ever so delicately set down as two smaller, more humanoid hands scooped Priscilla from his back and hoarded her against the large cracked mask that dominated the Architect's chest. He crooned as he did, all but wiggling in place. 

**<<It worked! Severed from His Source as He was when we closed the portal, it was enough to level the field! Oh, -destroy- Him, Hydaelyn!>>**

"Hey, take it easy!" Laughing easily as she wiggled in his grasp, the Warrior shifted and tried to peek over his shoulder enough to watch as the Mothercrystal tore one of the upright spires free of Zodiark's back, casting it aside. "What'd I miss? Speaker?"

"Zodiark was tethered to the Star, bound to it, to act as it's will. To attempt to instill a protective quality within Him, the Convocation worked to ensure that should He ever sever that tether, that direct link, He would essentially shatter from within. Bloated as He is, he survived both that and the portal that we closed within him when it exploded. The Architect used his connection to Hydaelyn to call for her, alert her to the situation and beg her to finish this fight. We had no way to ensure he remained, but that resolved itself when we realized you and Wyrmblood had taken up the fight externally." Lahabrea hefted his trident, before pointing towards the primals. "The only hitch in the plan is that I believe your friend Zenos is still within Him."

"Was. Past tense, truly." Limping out of a rift with one arm over Elidibus' shoulders as the Emissary helped him past the threshold, the Garlean Emperor grinned crookedly and lifted the broken sword in his grasp in salute. "As much as I would have liked to continue causing Him problems from within, the Coward came to fetch me after Her first strike nearly crushed me."

"Well then. All present and accounted for." A relieved look was cast over the others, before Priscilla shifted to watch Hydaelyn finally still. Fragments of purple crystal lingered around her, each shard slowly gaining a soft blue glow and drifting upwards to collect about her in a glittering cloud. 

_<<My child. Harken to my voice, and know that thine efforts hath enkindled my strength.>>_

Priscilla blinked, before pointing at herself and catching a familiar shape doing the same at the edge of the barrier. A cursory glance had her tapping Hades on the mask and pointing while shooting him a confused look.

**<<Later, little Monster.>>**

_<<Know too that thy efforts to rejoin the Shards with the Source shall be met with success. It was thy will that I survive the rejoining, and I have thus decided upon my course of action.>>_

Hydaelyn drifted upwards, the cloud of crellbron condensing around her as they found perches and outcroppings to latch onto while her form refolded into the larger, solid crystalline shape she had taken throughout the ages. The final remnants of purple crystal that was scattered about the ground lifted up to join her, orbiting her form on a diagonal as each shard bled from dark violet to light blue. Small motes of darkness and one of white marked where the Tempered Ascians were being restrained by the crellbron, and slowly each was consumed by blue crystal and set to orbit with the rest. 

_<<It was my creators wish that I tether myself to the Lifestream only to recycle mine own energy, and to sustain myself throughout the ages. I will leave this time, and travel to the empty, ruined shard of the Source that has been left behind, bearing with me the Doom and the souls I have salvaged from Zodiark. It will take time, however I will work to ensure the world begins anew.>>_

"Oh. Oh! Wait! Polydegmon, you should hustle out there before She leaves! That's your world, isn't it?" Twisting to peer at the former Emet-Selch, Priscilla shot him a smile and felt it falter when he glanced at her and then slowly made his way towards the Shade the Architect had constructed. 

"It is your world too, Warrior."

"I'm... Dead, aren't I."

"Temporarily. We have much to discuss, if you are willing. I give you my word that you'll find no funny business from me." One hand against his chest, Polydegmon offered the other one out towards the Shade and smiled faintly as she reached out to accept his hand, frowning. 

"Somehow, I feel like you're not lying."

"Perk of the position, I'm afraid." Turning to look up towards the floating form of Emet-Selch, Polydegmon narrowed his eyes and briskly nodded towards the Warrior on his shoulder. "Priscilla. Emet-Selch. Thank you."

**<<You failed once. -Don't- do it again. I won't be there next time to clean up after you, you know.>>** Blandly, one of the smaller clawed hands came up to brush at an invisible spec of dirt on the Architect's shoulder as Emet-Selch gripped his Wife's ankle with the other. **<<Go on. She won't wait forever.>>**

* * *

The Ascians returned to Azys Lla, each and every one of them party to their own exhaustion. The Speaker sent everyone away in teams of two to make sure if anyone collapsed, someone would be able to call for help. From there, he stuck to the Emissary citing stage one Tempering, which Elidibus didn't protest (it was true, after all) and gathered Igeyorhm so that they could deal with it before settling down to rest. 

Emet-Selch dithered with the possibility of fixing the vessel he had utterly destroyed in his bid for his legless form. Eventually he simply gave up and waved a clawed hand towards the door to his rooms, intent on inhabiting one of the remaining vessels there. When the door opened, he hesitated and instead carefully set Priscilla down so that he could grasp the doorway with both large hands and stick his head in. 

**<<Augurelt? What on -Hydaelyn- happened here?>>**

"Twenty six bells, ten minutes." The elezen pushed himself up from where he was sprawled across the ground, surrounded by papers and diagrams. His voice was a hoarse rasp as he lifted one hand to push his hair away from his face. "Looped. Plus two bells and twenty five minutes."

**<<... Did you -fix- it?>>**

"Yes." Wobbling slightly until one massive clawed hand caught him delicately about the torso, Urianger slowly lifted his head to give both Priscilla and Emet-Selch a hollow eyed, empty stare. 

"Oookay, I'll get him to the bed, and you get yourself there?" Glancing up, she took the way Hades rocked his entire torso forward slightly and back as a nod and shuffled forward to support the exhausted astrologian as he relinquished him into her grasp. "C'mon. Let's all go and get some sleep. This' been a hell've a thing. We'll talk in the morning, yeah?"

* * *

Standing on the road just outside of Idyllshire, Aymeric lifted his chin to enjoy the breeze. Ejected from the bubble around Alexander a few bells ago, he had set out for the closest point of 'civilization' and purchased some spare clothes that he thought might fit a very specific long-legged elezen. They were even clean.

His wait was rewarded, as a by now familiar strip of winged darkness wobbled his way through the air towards Alexander. Lifting one hand, the Lord Commander activated the crystal in his hand and watched in satisfaction as it sent up a flare to draw the dragons attention. It twisted in mid-air, before course correcting and gliding down to land heavily on the path a hundred or so fulms down from where Aymeric stood. 

He took his time making his way to the cracking, creaking bundle of raw muscle as it compacted down and paled. The sash had held up well, he realized, as he stopped nearby and settled into a crouch to study the otherwise naked elezen that was stretched out, groaning on the ground. Noting several injuries, Aymeric made soothing noises and gently eased his wild half into the clothes prepared and then bodily picked him up to make his way back to Idyllshire. 

A room was already rented and prepared, with a healer standing by. De Borel had lived long enough with Estinien as his companion to know what would be needed. Besides, it gave him a chance to make sure the crusty dragoon managed to get his weekly bath.

* * *

"I don't want to believe you." 

Priscilla folded her arms, staring at Polydegmon as he sighed and leaned back in the chair he had pulled from the wreckage of the rebuilt and re-destroyed Amaurot. Above, Hydaelyn almost lazily spun and faintly chimed, the crellbron working to help her weave a new lifestream through the otherwise barren world. It was a sight to see, and one that would take years even if it ultimately brought about the results they sought. 

It had taken an hour to revert the Shade state that Emet-Selch had imposed upon her. From there, her Echo had kicked in and knocked her out for a week, after which the Ascian had done what he could to explain everything. Not _everything_, of course, but a generalized overview of what had happened since her death. 

She hadn't taken too kindly to learning that everyone she had ever known was dead. An understandable anger, that had then simmered into resentment when he winced and made mention of his part in it all. From there she had seemed borderline hostile as he recapped the relationship between their counterparts in the alternate timeline, as well as their accomplishments. 

"If I'm effectively long-lived now too, just like you, you can afford to wait for the time it takes me to sort through all this." 

Hades fought the urge to raise a hand, to call her back as she turned and rank through the ruins, and simply closed his eyes to resign himself to the long years left of the work he was willing to dedicate himself to.

* * *

Eschaton woke slowly, and let out a content sigh as one of her lovers shifted in response to the way she had lolled her head in a vain attempt to search for a clock. The last few weeks had been a hassle as the Crystarium was dug out of the dream realm of the Pixies and the other shards were seeded with aetherites and then slowly, carefully, one by one shuffled into the Source. The last one had successfully rejoined without anything going catastrophically wrong, which meant they could all relax and let the people that had been brought along with each fragment resume their lives as usual. 

Everything had worked out, in the end. Established civilizations with lengthy histories were having to work hand in hand to integrate properly, and there had been some territorial disputes when certain factions realized their maps weren't going to line up the way they wanted them to any more, but it hadn't yet proven to be anything that Elidibus couldn't mediate. She was officially out of major things to whack, considering Garlemald had forsworn any weapons testing and instead opened up a series of academies for people to willingly go and train at, if they sought such a thing. Fighting tournaments and gladiatorial sport galore. 

She wasn't necessary for any of it, which meant she had an awful lot of time to laze around and dote on the two people she held the closest to her out of everyone. Emet-Selch had slept for a solid week before waking, apologizing, and passing out for another full day and night. Urianger had made ridiculous progress with many of the concepts he had started to work on to make people's lives easier in general, and figured out how to teleport in a similar manner to the Ascians. 

Everything looked like it was leveling out. Deudalaphon had woken up. While there was still no sign of Nabriales, the Convocation hadn't given up on trying to find him yet. 

"You're _thinking_ again." Hades muttered the words softly into her stomach, and tightened his arm around her waist even as he idly cracked open an eye to study her in the dark. 

"I am, yeah."

"Lahabrea has _guaranteed_ me that any emergencies would be handled discreetly. As much as I know this might bring you to boredom, 'tis certainly helping -me-."

"Yeah." A slow smile curled the corners of her lips upwards, and she tilted her head to peer at him even as one of her hands found his hair and started to gently card through the soft strands. "Hey, Hades?"

"Yes, little Monster?"

"I love you. You too, Uri."

A mild, sleepy sound answered her from the body at her back, and as gentle lips pressed against her stomach she felt like things had, perhaps, just maybe turned out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A]nd so, their great foe was defeated.
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with me for this crazy journey!  
<3  
P.S: Loose ends will be tied up in epilogue chapters as prompts, so let me know what you want to see!


	63. V2.1

The thing about messing with timelines, is that sometimes they start to become unstable. They fragment, and little tendrils of What Might Have Happened spiral off onto their own. With enough of them, some of them even begin to collide into other Possibilities, crossing over one another and potentially realigning like rail road tracks from two different places meeting to share the same rails. Other times, they could cross each other like streets, and you just sort of had to trust that everyone knew what they were doing to figure out who had the right of way, even if deep down you knew that nobody had actually gotten their chocobo license and had decided to ride a bird they had just tamed minutes ago. 

* * *

"He's a little bit mentally fragile right now, Zenos. It'd be like any average villager being asked to voluntarily walk up to you and punch you in the dick right after they watched you murder everyone they ever loved. They'd be a bit shaken and need to work themselves up to it with a bit of motivation, and what matters is he _did_ something. Baby steps. Confidence doesn't come overnight." An easygoing smile crossed her face as she spun, dropping her hands to the console so that she could set the destination. A brief sense of _wrong_ tickled her before she blinked and glanced around, nose crinkling as it faded. "Anyone else feel that?"

Elidibus frowned faintly, lifting his head before slowly shaking it. "Nothing seems amiss, Eschaton."

"I don't like it. Zenos, do me a favour yeah? Go and check with the other Ascians. Think've the bragging rights you'd have for saving your great granddad. Elidibus, let's hurry and check on Poly." The Warrior stepped onto the teleporter, before starting to bolt down the corridor to the rooms she had stuffed the former Emet-Selch into. The door opened as she approached, and she had to skid and adjust to avoid slamming into Polydegmon as he stepped groggily out of the rooms. 

"Polydegmon."

"Warrior, Elidibus. What is going on?"

The white robed Ascian paused, looking towards where Priscilla had come up short and then shaking his head slightly. "There was a disturbance, the aether felt... strained, for a moment. Eschaton thought perhaps you might know something."

"Yeah! Any ideas?" The Warrior leaned in, peering up and frowning faintly as the former Architect slowly shook his head. Both of his hands came up to massage his temples. 

"None, but I felt it too and have a headache the size of Lahabrea's _ego _because of it."

"Let's gather up the others and see what they think. Uri might know something too." Priscilla's frown deepened, before turning to start back down the hallway with a purpose.

* * *

"It's taken a bit to gather everyone here, but now that we are I've got some question." The Warrior sat on the edge of the table, peering about the collected Ascians. Most of them were largely unreadable due to the masks, though Polydegmon, Emet-Selch and Urianger all wore visible frowns. Zenos lounged in his chair nearby, dismantling one of the swords for regular maintenance. "All of us felt something -weird-. None of us know what it was. I think that it was Zodiark trying and missing, like we discussed might be possible before."

She took a moment to gauge reactions. It was something all of them knew was coming, but none of them seemed comfortable with it. The older Architect visibly paled. 

"We're running out of time. I want to pick out a team and head to Alexander to see if we can't lock Zodiark out've our timeline. He's the primal that deals with 'time', and probably our best bet. There's no Ascians with that trait, right?" 

"No, there is not." Elidibus shook his head, frowning faintly before glancing towards Emet-Selch as he made a quiet sound of disagreement. "Am I wrong?"

"'Tis complicated. You were there when we were discussing the numbers, and they simply _don't_ add up.Which leads me to believe that this convolution of time extends back farther than we previously thought, even accounting for the presence of Polydegmon." The Architect folded his arms, gold eyes narrowing. "I am burdened with the Truth. And yet, when I attempt to say that there are, absolutely, fourteen members of the convocation it comes _dangerously_ close to a lie."

"But it didn't tweak anything before, right? Before I met you on the First?" Priscilla frowned, swinging her feet idly. "I distinctly remember you telling me multiple times that there were fourteen members of the convocation." 

"There -are- fourteen members of the convocation." Polydegmon pursed his lips, giving his younger counterpart an exasperated look. 

"-Are- there? Give yourself a few minutes to look back that far. Something is wrong." Hades gestured to the older, former Architect. Polydegmon opened his mouth, before pausing and starting to frown. "See? 'Tis not just me."

"Lohgrif, Fandaniel, Pashtarot, Mitron, Lahabrea, Mysel-... _You_, Halmarut, Nabriales, Emmerololth, Igeyorhm, Deudalaphon, Elidibus, Eschaton... Sors?"

"No. Look back further. What do you know about Sors?" Emet-Selch leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he idly tapped his fingers together. "Where did he come from? Who trained him? For a supposed member of the Convocation he did... Nothing. What is the title 'Sors' related to?'"

"... Luck? Divination? Large quantities of a nameless thing?"

"'Fate.'" The Warrior tilted her head, brows furrowing before she blinked over at where both Architects, former and current were staring at her. "... What." 

"I don't remember anyone titled or named 'Sors'." Lahabrea leaned against the table, looking around at the others before focusing on Emet-Selch. "It could be that your memory is not, in fact, perfect."

"I remember everything that you ever said that I paid attention to, Speaker. I could parrot it back verbatim if necessary." Hades rolled his eyes, draping himself back in his chair and sighing. "I do not believe Sors is an actual member of the Convocation. I have no recollection of this 'Sors' in previous generations of the Convoctation, and even during our own I have one singular memory of what he looks like from what I believe to be the only meeting he ever attended. So I ask you all. _Are_ we the Convocation of Thirteen, or the Convocation of Fourteen? If the latter, then who are we missing?"

"Nobody. Everybody is here beyond Nabriales and Deudalaph-" Lahabrea gestured to everyone, only to eye Polydegmon as he was interrupted.

"Eschaton, Sors was related to you somehow." The former Architect folded his arms, eyes still narrowed in thought. "There is something _there_, simply..."

"Smudged?" Emet-Selch scowled, supplying the word and getting a nod in response. "Not only -me- then. Or if it is, 'tis an older issue from the past. It is worrisome, considering my memory is _meant_ to be the perfect record."

"So from there, we must needs discern the root cause, specifically the -when- of such-" Polydegmon nodded slowly, quieting as Hades cut across to continue his sentence. 

"-and from there determine if anything _else_ is amiss. Which means-"

"Returning to Amaurot and my-... _our_ vault as they actually are and hoping to find some inconsistencies." The former Architect huffed. "Doubtless you will want to check the Vault yourself, so I will go to the city."

"The cottage in Garlemald, actually. After the Vault was broken into, I moved as much as I could out of it." Emet-Selch pushed himself to his feet, only to pause and cast a glance over the rest of the people in the room and finally resting his gaze on Priscilla. "I will return as soon as I can."

"Go on then, yeah? We'll hold down the fort. I can tell this is something bothering you pretty badly." She offered him a wry smile and a wave. "I'm still sticking close to Elidibus, so if you need help just let him know and we'll be there straight away."

"And myself?" Polydegmon brushed himself off, eyeing the Warrior somewhat suspiciously. "Simply letting me run off on my own, are we?" 

"Yep. If you were going to fuck up, you would've done so and abandoned me on a shard without anyone else knowing." Eschaton flashed him a grin, and made a gentle shoeing motion. "Try not to get into too much trouble while you're out though, alright?"

The former Architect studied her for a long moment, before inclining his head and vanishing in a swirl of shadow. 

* * *

The meeting didn't last very long after that. Most of those who remained paired off to work on analyzing different shards and portions of the source to see if the surge had left any residual aether that might be able to help them confirm if it had been an attempted breach or not. Urianger and Emmerololth settled in the room with Deudalaphon and tried to puzzle out ways to wake the slumbering, damaged ascian, and Priscilla roamed the varying heights of Azys Lla with the white robed Elidibus in tow. 

She found herself wrapped around the spire that Emet-Selch had taken her to, in an attempt to get her to relax, and sighed as with the barrier still up there wasn't the howling gale she missed. Giving up on it for the moment, she scrambled back down to flop onto the flat metal and stretch out, staring up at the sky. 

"Ophi?"

"I am here." Drifting to touch down near her, the Emissary turned and tilted his masked face down to watch her as she folded her hands behind her head. 

"You ever get feelings of, I dunno. Like when you think you've been somewhere before when you haven't?"

"Not quite. Such was common for the Sundered, however, in part because their souls remembered the echos of places they had tread when whole." 

"I dunno, this is different. It's like... Like a chain wrapped around a gear somewhere slipped a link. No, that's not quite..." The Warrior gave the sky an exasperated glare. "Something's got me on edge. You think I could kill a shard of Zodiark on my own? Like outright kill? End?" 

"... I think that if anyone could, it would be you. You would have to have a great deal of power behind you for it, but such might be possible." Elidibus shifted, sitting down next to her and settling his hands carefully on his lap as Polite Smile Number Four settled into place. 

"Think your power could do it? Unsundered are supposed to be super powerful, and all. It'd probably have taken eight of me to kill Emet-Selch in Amaurot on the First if I'd tried, after all." She lolled her head to peer at him curiously, blinking behind her mask at the way his Polite Smile was starting to look just the tiniest bit amused around the edges. It was all in how his chin dipped and was slightly angled to the side, she decided, mentally nodding to herself. 

"You are essentially asking me if I have the strength to immediately kill a minimum of twenty thousand Unsundred Amaurotine citizens." There was a moment where he thought about it, before the Emissary lifted his gaze to study the sky through the barrier. "... Theoretically. Emet-Selch would be better suited to such. He has, admittedly, more raw offensive power than I do. My skill set is somewhat more defensively built, after all. But I believe such would be possible, provided I was given more than a span of six seconds."

"Because your magic's sort of... More geared towards making people lose their will to fight? Or hurting them over a period of time? Your weapon of office sort of acts as a symbol of what you can do, and all that?" 

"Correct. Although, I tend not to use it if I can help it." The practiced smile held, though it downshifted through to Polite Smile Number Two as he stretched out next to Priscilla. 

"Yeah, I remember that fight." The Warrior grumbled under her breath, before letting out her breath with a sigh. "I shouldn't even be considering it. But I feel like we're running out of time, and I'd rather save what we've already got than risk losing it all."

"Do you remember, what your weapon of office was?"

"Pairing knife, right? Small, useful kitchen tool for all sorts of things. Because my skillset was useful for all sorts of things." Propping herself up on an elbow and reaching out with one hand, Priscilla grinned slightly. "I can sort've see it, sometimes. Like if I just reach far enough, I can touch it but I've never been able to so far." 

"A useful tool." The words were an agreement, and Elidibus folded his hands neatly on his chest as he continued to watch the sky. "But not necessarily a weapon. I always found it odd."

"What's a weapon but a tool of war?" She flashed him a grin, and the Emissary couldn't help but find himself agreeing privately.


	64. V2.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition on some oddities

Alexander loomed in the distance. Elidibus thought of all the ways things could go wrong with what little he knew about chronomancy. Priscilla rubbed her hands together, and _beamed_ as she finished explaining what had happened with the primal. 

"-And then she disappeared, and we all high-tailed it out've there. So when we passed beyond the toes that stick out've the bubble there, the patterns appeared across the sky and it was locked into place again. Twelve, but the fights against the goblins in there were _hell_. Didn't hold a candle to fighting the mini-Alexander that popped up to judge us though. There was one part've that fight where we all had to huddle and the casters we brought with us all focused on a big barrier as everything -exploded-, but that was the easy part when you think about the black orbs. They were actual portals to the past." 

"I do have a question, Eschaton." 

"Eh?" Hopping on the spot for a moment, the Warrior pivoted to peer at him even as she started doing squats as a warm-up. "What's your boggle?"

"If that barrier is indeed one meant to lock Alexander from the rest of the flow of time, how do you hope to progress once you pass through? Would you not simply be stuck, standing still?" 

Priscilla grinned, and pointed to the pile of rope they had brought with them. "If that -does- happen, you get to pull me out using this. Got it?" 

Polite Smile Number Two settled in place, and the white-robed Ascian politely bowed. Once the rope was tied securely around the Warrior's waist, she turned to him and flashed him a grin that he answered with his smile shifting up to Polite Smile Number Three. It wasn't going to work. It didn't take a sorcerer prodigy to know that once she passed through the barrier - provided she could penetrate it in the first place by simply walking through, as she seemed to intend to - no amount of pulling on a rope would free her. Part of him internally screamed as she approached the barrier-

Priscilla walked through, humming idly, and meandered around for a moment. A few hops in place proved to her that nothing was going to go horribly wrong, and she turned to shoot the Emissary a thumbs up. He watched her, fascinated, and worked on mentally revising what he knew about time-based aether. 

"Seems alright. You good on that side, Ophi?"

"I... am, although this seems patently impossible." Setting down the rope, Elidibus cautiously approached the barrier, and stepped through... and froze in place. There was a low whistle as the Warrior stepped up to poke him and tried to ruffle his clothes, pulling the hood down as he stared blankly ahead. 

"Well that's, uhh... Are you messing with me, Ophi?... Elidibus? Emissary?" 

"He can't hear you." 

Priscilla spun to blink at the weaselly looking youth with nondescript brown hair as he clutched a book and hunched his shoulders. The tome was large, hiding most of his torso and face as the Warrior raised her hands in what she hoped was a calming gesture. 

"Hey, it's alright, I'm not gunna hurt you. What happened to him?"

"The same thing that happens to anyone who tries to pass through the barrier while the world outside is proceeding apace, barring a temporal hiccough if you will- ahhh... We must be in that one then. You... Shouldn't be here." He shifted, wiggling in place before coughing discreetly. 

"Maybe. You look familiar though, have we met before?"

"Nnnooope? No. I-"

"We have, haven't we." Priscilla stepped closer, frowning. "No, I know you. Where...?"

Sors flinched as she took the book gently from his hands, and failed to meet her gaze.

* * *

Elidibus blinked, and then slowly twisted to peer back at the barrier. He was outside, hood down and the last thing he remembered was stepping through. Lifting a hand, he sought to reach for the barrier only to pause as something crinkled in his hand. Parchment, he realized. Priscilla was nowhere to be found. 

Polite Smile Number One snapped into place as he thought about how he was going to explain to Emet-Selch that he had somehow lost the mans wife to a Primal that wasn't even active, and read the paper in his grasp.

* * *

The Warrior meandered along after the odd fellow with his book tucked securely under his arm. She recognized where they were, understood the direction they were going but didn't quite understand -why-. The empty goblin city came and went. The chamber that held the floating fragments of the crystal that had once been the heart of Alexander was wandered through. Her 'guide' refused to answer any and all questions until they were up in the sky-patterned area that the portion that had been dubbed as 'Alexander Prime' had been found in, the very soul of the Primal. 

Sors paced to the center of the room and stared out at the sky. "... May I have my book back?"

"Are you gunna answer my questions?" Priscilla hefted the book, eyeing the hyur. 

"I-... yes." He swallowed, before holding his hands out. "To start with... I am 'Sors'."

"-Are- you a Convocation member?" Plunking the large book into his grasp, the Warrior then moved to plop herself down and stretch out her legs. 

"Not... exactly. How much do you remember? Oh. I-I suppose I already know the answer to that one." He smiled sheepishly and opened the book, flicking through the pages. "Every Primal you've ever defeated was immediately returned to aether. But Alexander didn't."

"Yeah, he just sort've went to sleep in his time bubble, right? Which he initially popped up because he knew that no matter what he did, it'd end the world from how much aether it drained and he didn't want that?"

"Half-points." Sors settled down nearby, cradling the open tome against his chest. "The Bahamut that you fought was very different from the Bahamut that was lost. Alexander the Primal doesn't sleep, he waits."

Priscilla blinked at that, hands settled on the ground behind her to keep herself propped up. "What for?"

"In case he's needed again."

"That's really uselessly cryptic, y'know." She wrinkled her nose, and Sors flinched as he hid behind the book. 

"He could have just dispersed himself into aether. But you wanted something that could endure after the initial surge but didn't need to rely on the lifestream. So we spread stories when the time came, and-"

The Warrior lifted a hand, interrupting as the weaselly figure hunched. "Wait, hold up, you're saying that Alexander was you, and not the Ascians?" 

"Yes. It was... It was necessary, after what happened last time." Sors swallowed quietly, looking down at the book. "I hope... That this is the right one. When you were the Eschaton, the first time you were the Eschaton, you weren't... -strong-, enough. Zodiark was too heavily void based, and the aspected aether that you used wasn't able to counter it. You needed _holy_. You needed _Altima. _Emet-Selch helped you build me, and then sent us both back. You convinced Altima of the necessary sacrifice, and then... And then became the strongest of the Convocation members, by leaps and bounds. You gained her Burden, Lethe, and... and -forgot-, for the most part." 

"Altima wasn't- That's not-" She stared, mouth working soundlessly for a moment as she tried to work her mind around the information. "Altima was just what the Ascians called the part of me they recovered."

"Well, -yes-, but actually _no_ Eschaton. Altima was a member of the Convocation. I re-wrote-... It takes a lot of aether. I re-wrote many things to weave us properly into the narrative. Even then, only three outcomes came close enough to what you wanted, and out of those three, you were only happy with two. Alexander is a failsafe. If everything goes wrong again, he will devour the aether of the world and send us back again." Sors curled both arms around the book, head down. "... He was designed after me. I was designed _for_ you. A tool." 

"So... are you a primal?"

"No. I am an automaton. A construct."

"Rrright. Alright. Okay. Not sure I believe you yet but, uhh... I mean so far I can't think of anything that exactly contradicts everything beyond how utterly _out there_ all of that is." She paused, before perking up. "Oh! Wait, construct, like a mammet?"

Sors nodded. "A very complex mammet. A perpetual motion machine. All I need is a little bit of movement to reset my momentum from time to time."

"So the 'smudge' that Hades and Polydegmon both have in their memories?"

"It's... _hard_, to disrupt a perfect record. It's not copy, cut and paste. There are lines where he discovers it earlier, but those are not the ones that come to where you wanted to go."

"Alright, so I gotta ask 'why'. Why'd all of this happen? I get that you said I needed Altima's strength and aspect, but sacrificing everything that was left just seems... I dunno. Not like something I'd do." The Warrior grimaced, leaning forward to plop her hands on her thighs, rubbing idly. "Was it really that bad?"

"It was worse. The only aether left was held within yourself, Emet-Selch, Elidbus and Lahabrea. You held every remaining scrap of Hydaelyn, and the Emissary held every remaining scrap of Zodiark. The Architect supported you and the Speaker supported Elidibus, respectively." The automaton smiled slightly. "Every time you tried to grow something, it was twisted and Emet-Selch had to kill it. It broke your heart."

"There! That. If you're a mammet, how can you smile? I thought metal bits were all fixed in their shape, but your face is pretty expressive." She lifted a hand, pointing it at him as she leaned forward. "How's that possible-?"

"You fought Omega, yes? I was rebuilt out of the remnants of it. That is the source of my ability to walk through time. It's because Omega could warp both it and space and... forsake their laws." Sors closed the book, looking sheepish. "For me, they're more like... guidelines, anyway."

"So you could go back again?"

"If I have to. But this thread will collapse, if I do, and this one is _important_." He gestured around at the internal components of the primal. "This is one of the three threads, the three roads that come close."

"When you say 'collapse'..." Priscilla lowered her hand, humming thoughtfully as she wiggled her toes in her boots. "What actually happens to a time that someone exits?" 

"It continues, it collapses or it's consumed. Sometimes, if two match closely enough they merge back together. Think of it like this." Sors set the book down, and held up one finger. "Every time you make a choice, there is a division. All the way back to the very first decision on this Star. And the longer time goes by, the more splits and divisions there are from when someone made a choice to do something, versus a choice not to." 

His other hand came up, one finger pointing upwards as well. "But even reality can't handle the strain of so many different paths. There is a finite limit of 'space' across multiple directional dimensions. If you can remove yourself from one, you can see the gaps between them, like threads in a rug. And if you can see it, you can possibly _go_ there. But sometimes... Threads just snap, or go astray. These things cause stress, and the more stress on reality the more likely it is to fracture." 

"Okay...? I sort've follow."

"You can find two threads that are so similar you could spend centuries trying to find the differences and never manage to. So when two are so similar, after long enough, they synchronize and merge. Like two rivers that split a while ago, meeting up again."

"Like we were planning to do with the Shards and the Source, to undo the Sundering?" She perked up as Sors nodded. 

"Yes. But a naturally occurring phenomena." Both raised fingers were shifted together, tapping against one another. "If a thread has enough previous threads woven through it, previous strands merged, it's stronger and is less likely to collapse. If it has beyond a certain threshold, collapse is impossible and the energy it holds is simply consumed to fuel the transfer. But if it has a strength and gravitas beyond even _that_, then it continues with a net loss of aether." 

"So... The one Polydegmon came from is one of the 'major' threads in the carpet?" 

Sors nodded once more. "Yes." 

"And the Exarch?"

"The same thread."

The Warrior ah'd softly as she bobbed her head. "... So why a -book-, and not a tomestone?"

"Aesthetic and a visualization of the restraint and restriction of my ability." 

Priscilla snorted at that, before starting to laugh.


	65. Altima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Altima (For Sorensen)

Eschaton didn't... _like_ Altima. 

For one, everything was a whole lot more mechanical than what she was comfortable with. The Seraph, who was sometimes mockingly called 'the Virgin' if only because she stayed in her workshop and rarely left it, was generally a quiet individual who kept to herself. The current Altima was actually one of the few in the city who could keep up with Emet-Selch when he started talking about engineering, in fact. 

They had seen each other at the ceremony that marked her official claim to the title of Eschaton, but no words had been exchanged. The silver haired, golden eyed, individual was tall and held herself with an incredible amount of poise. It had been intimidating, if Persephone was being honest.

They hadn't yet met in an unofficial capacity, but it was with some not-so-subtle prompting by her Da to go and say hi. So, with the advice of the Retired Zeus ringing in her ears, Eschaton headed into the city and found the Bureau of the Seraph. Persephone knocked on the door of the office, and tried to figure out how Elidibus had managed to smile flawlessly regardless of how awkward the situation got. 

Nobody answered. The shielding was too thick for her to feel the aether through the door, so she tried the handle. The door opened slowly, quietly, and Eschaton poked her head through. The opening 'Hello?' died on her lips as she stared at the intertwined aether of Emet-Selch and Altima, before she sucked in a breath and beat a hasty retreat. 

The startled shout that echoed through the door she left behind was proof enough she had been caught.

She didn't care. She _fled_. 

* * *

The first skip back, Persephone _cheated_. 

The soft spot she'd held for Hades before the first Ending hadn't gone away. After Altima had been destroyed in the first run through, she had consoled the Architect and then, over the decades and centuries that they worked together that soft spot had only gotten bigger. Unfortunately her path still didn't manage to cross that of Hades and Rafail until shortly before the former became a Convocation member. She wasn't sure why or what had happened, but it seemed Emet-Selch and Altima held each other at more of a distance. Subtle prying hadn't managed to get any answers, and instead had earned her a _look_ from Zeuse as he told her to mind her own business.

* * *

The ceremony came and went. Altima was as unreachable as ever. But if their plan was going to work, then she needed to make peace with the Seraph and Alexander was _no_ help with how he rested in an inactive state. He wouldn't be able to tell her what to say that would help and what would hinder. She needed to swallow the childish jealousy that Altima had, _once upon a time_, in a timeline that didn't even exist any more managed to woo Hades first. 

She knocked on the door. There was no answer, which was understandable, before she gently opened the door. Once more, the opening 'Hello?' died on her lips but for a completely different reason. Altima stood up abruptly, wiping her eyes to give Persephone an utterly indifferent look as if she hadn't, in fact, been sitting on the floor crying. 

Something shifted within the Botanist, and she swept forward to wrap her arms around the Seraph. 

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, it's-"

Altima pushed her away, sniffing and turning to stare resolutely at the wall. "It's none of your business, Honourable Eschaton."

_It's about Hades, isn't it. He announced he would be working on a project and thus be unavailable for a decade at least. I miss him too._ Persephone thought to herself, stepping away and frowning. She remained silent for a moment before moving to sit down on a chair and sigh. "... Maybe it isn't. But I _am_ here for you. I came today to ask you if you wanted to go for drinks."

"I am busy with my work for the Convocation." The Seraph gracefully made her way over to a table and lifted up a blueprint. Some manner of airship, it seemed, but hard to tell with how the thick paper was being held upside down. Eschaton tug out the pendant that Alexander had condensed down to, and set it down. 

"I suppose that means you don't want to look at technology from the future, then."

_That_ got her attention, and Altima turned to stare first at Persephone, second at the pendant. "... Impossible."

"There are a lot of things we need to go over, Altima. And I need you to understand that you absolutely _cannot_ take this to the rest of the Convocation. Even Emet-Selch doesn't know." 

* * *

"... Say I believed you, Eschaton." Altima folded her hands more securely around the cup of coffee, and stared down into the depths of the dark liquid. "What makes you so certain that we won't be killed the way I supposedly was, early on because of my opposing element?"

"The strength of two Convocation members combined is more than enough to keep Elidibus too cautious to attack us outright." Persephone reached for the pendant, hanging Alexander around her neck and tucking him into her robes. The hood was the next to come back up, and she sighed as she leaned her elbow against the table. 

"And what happens to me? Do I lose consciousness? Do I _die_?"

"The same thing that happens to me. Points of synchronization are found between us, and we mesh until compromise and equilibrium is found between us." Eschaton settled her hands on her lap, studying the points along the gloves. "My adaptability is key here. I don't like it any more than you do but everything goes to _shit_ if you're out."

"I won't do it." The Seraph folded her arms. "But I _will_ work with you. And if it comes down to it, if I do end up getting... in danger of being killed. Then I'll consider it."

It wasn't exactly a win, but it wasn't a _loss_ either.

* * *

It didn't work. The Doom came, swallowed the world and things turned out -worse- than they would have without interference. Zodiark, infected by the Doom and rabidly destroying the Star with all the glee of a great and terrible child, loomed in the sky. Eschaton grasped Alexander, sucked in a breath, and wrote off the timeline as a failure.

_(She was all that was left, in that one. The weight of it felt like a stone in her stomach. She swallowed it down, made it her own, and resolved to do better.)_

The next time, she found Altima sooner and developed a friendship. Between the two of them, they managed to summon Hydaelyn early, but the Primal went rampant and converted the entirety of the star into pure light aether. 

_(She should have known that was going to happen. She could have asked Alexander, but stressing him by trying to get him to answer questions would limit his effectiveness in the event of an emergency.)_

The next time, she refined the concept a bit more and then brought it to Altima. It was too late. She'd spent too much time out of the city practicing and the Convocation summoned Zodiark with her research as the base. It wasn't _as_ bad as it could have been, but when the Doom came the Zodiark-Hydaelyn hybrid failed to be able to counter it. 

_(She almost died due to a freak accident where one of the holes the Doom clawed it's way out of opened essentially under her feet. Zeus had leapt in after her, caught her by the wrist and thrown her clear before it closed and swallowed him up.)_

The next time, she idled and ensured that the automaton she carried was going to remain in working order. She fled, lived with the beasts and stared numbly as the Doom came on. It was only Alexander's timely intervention that hauled her out of the timeline and into another. 

_("You don't get to just **die**, Eschaton. You promised. You promised me. You promised **him**.")_

The next time, she threw herself into her work and avoided everyone except for the Eschaton that raised her. It wasn't enough. She still wasn't _strong_ enough, and Altima never worked the way Persephone wanted. 

_(Rafail hounded her in that one, even after he earned the title of Hythlodaeus. Somehow, he always managed to find her. Despite not quite understanding why she worked so hard at what she did, he still stood by her and helped her. It was the first time that they began to harbor feelings for each other. It was not the last.)_

The next time everything _almost_ worked, but it wasn't a satisfactory result. Yes, the Star was stable. Yes, Zodiark was defeated and Hydaelyn was properly set to dissipate back into motes of aether. But it wasn't enough. 

_(Neither Hades nor Rafail survived in that one. It was a hollow victory. Emet-Selch had clawed his way into the center of the dark primal and then essentially imploded to release a strong enough pulse of death-based aether that everything for malms simply died. Even Zodiark.)_

The next time...

_(She experimented with simply not summoning primals at all. The Doom swallowed the Star.)_

The next time...

_(She experimented with the Doom itself, learned a bit more about how it worked before she was forced to flee.)_

The next time...

And the next time...

And then the next time...

* * *

The first thing she did was wait for Zeus to pick her up. Then, she changed her gender to the female that she preferred. From there, she honed herself and hunted down the Altima she would need. Alexander in hand, she _devoured_ the aether of the other Amaurotine and felt dirty for doing it even as her hair went from blond to silver. From there, the excess was split from her, poured into the automaton so that she wouldn't raise any suspicions. 

Lethe kicked in. She left Alexander in the wilderness, lost to her as she forgot everything beyond that she had to be _somewhere_ _sometime soon_. At the end of an alley she started a garden, knowing only that she had found the _where, _and soon enough forgot why she was there. And then, one day, a little boy found her garden and her heart went _him_. 

Years later, training to be Eschaton, she crossed paths with an odd amulet that surged with power when she touched it. Recollection hit her, and she greeted it like an old friend before Lethe blinded her and left her with the uneasy feeling of simply not being -strong- enough. The Star continued to spin as she worked hard to train herself. 

The world forgot about the possibility of a Convocation member called 'Altima'. 'Eschaton' was tweaked to have the meaning of 'Botanist' instead of 'Harbinger', to the absolute confusion of everyone. Nobody talked about it, and it too was forgotten.

And then, the Doom came.


	66. V2.3

When Priscilla stepped out of the bubble, she was glad to see that Elidibus was floating nearby. That meant he had read the note, which meant...

"One hour, four minutes." Came his helpful report. She flashed him a grin. 

"Thank's. Seems the barrier doesn't work on me, though damned if I know why or why not. I, uhh... I need sometime to think. But I didn't want to panic you, so I came back out straightaways."

"Did you commune with Alexander, and figure out a way to prevent Zodiark from entering our timeline?" Touching down nearby, the Emissary folded his hands neatly behind his back and stepped closer. A polite smile (she wasn't sure how many of them he had, but it was one she had seen before) nudged the corners of his lips upwards when she shook her head. 

"No. I -did- learn a few things though. I should probably talk to Emet-Selch and Polydegmon. I've got some of the answers they're looking for." The Warrior grumbled, and raked her fingers back through her hair. "It's, uhh... Yeah. When I make more sense've it, I'll see what I can explain."

"I know where his cottage in Garlemald is located, but when I get too close I find myself where I started." Elidibus turned and lifted a hand, pulling a rift into existence as she snickered. 

"Oh, don't worry. I got that part. He made the mistake of leaving me his keys once, when I accidentally trashed his coat. He had to make another." A glitter of gold was produced, the links clicking against one another as she tossed the mark of Garlean prestige and rank upwards only to catch it with a grin. "He probably knows I have it, but he's never said anything."

"Then I will take you as close as I can, and wait for you to emerge."

* * *

Emet-Selch wrinkled his nose. Extensive thought confirmed it. He had two pristine memories of interactions with Sors and a handful of sightings at Convocation meetings, and each one was essentially _flawless_. There was one thing, and one thing only that indicated that something was _wrong_ with them, and that was the fact that his mental visual of him was purely physical. There was no overlay of an aura of aether of specific colours, textures or patterns. It was like looking at a doll, except for the fact that he could still see the way ambient aether wove through the item. 

The first was meeting him shortly after Persephone had gained her title. The weaselly faced man hadn't had a mask on, but that didn't seem odd at the time. Now, it was setting off warning klaxons as he recounted every word and experience shared. Nothing unusual. The pattern that most conversations took was evident. They greeted each other, inquired after each other's day and then bid farewell until next time. No, not quite. 

Hades narrowed his eyes, rubbing his temples as he focused on the slight feeling of _skipping_ something that was more and more apparent as he mentally worked at it. It felt like a proverbial knot along his soul. He pressed at it with the Secret that gave him pristine memory, before he felt something snap-

_(He caught Sors by surprised. The other member of the Convocation was damn near impossible to track down, despite having the entire Bureau of the Seraph to maintain and run. He never -had- understood why it was named that, but he found the mechanical aesthetic of the place soothing._

_The first thing that struck him as -wrong- was the fact that when he opened the door everyone was sitting down on the floor and staring intently at Sors, who was writing in his book. As his head came up, Hades gave him a puzzled look. _

_"Wha-?"_

_Emet-Selch turned around and left. He would come back another day, when things weren't so busy. Clearly, nobody was available to talk to him with everyone simply so... well, -busy-._

_Behind him, Sors let out a slow, relieved sigh.) _

_("Do you love Persephone?"_

_"Eschaton?" Emet-Selch blinked behind his mask only for his jaw to work slightly, turning the concept over in his mind. "I... What kind of a question is that?"_

_Sors smiled slightly. Sadly. "You will one day, you know. You've loved her eventually in all of them. It's only a matter of time. The difference this time is that she won't remember either."_

_The Architect opened his mouth to retort, confused and not -liking- the way the other was opening a book and jotting something down in the margin-_

_"Enjoy your day, Honourable Emet-Selch. We are sure to meet again." Sors smiled slightly, bowing his head. Emet-selch bowed his head as well, returning the farewell as he went about his day.)_

_("-a good day. But I have to ask, why don't you go out of the city and find her?"_

_"Her?"_

_"Eschaton." The maskless man jotted something down in his book, and the Architect's face smoothed out. "This isn't a timeline I've seen the end of yet, because it's still progressing and growing, but I know you wouldn't be disappointed if you went after her."_

_"She is undergoing training." Came the mild reply. "She is inaccessible until she returns to the city."_

_"Well, I suppose that's -an- answer. But really, I think you should give it a shot." Something else was written in the book before he gave the Convocation member a slight smile. "Enjoy your day, Honourable Emet-Selch. We are sure to meet again."_

_The Architect bowed his head politely, returning the farewell as he went about his day.)_

_(Something felt -off-. He went to the Vault of the Architect, and froze as, while wandering the pillars he came face to face with Sors. One hand came up as he started to shout before he dropped his hand and calmly moved to stand beside him. There was a brief moment where his aether recoiled, struggling against the compliance it didn't understand before the maskless man turned and smiled slightly, sadly at him. _

_"You're starting to become resistant to the effects, I see. I'll have to work harder at it in the future. Don't worry. I'm not the enemy. The Enemy doesn't show up for some time yet." _

_"How...?" The word came out, if only barely, forced past lips, teeth and tongue that would have otherwise wanted nothing more than to be placidly silent. _

_"You designed it as a self-defense function. Within a limited radius, I can disregard the Laws of the Star. I don't -like- to, but with how they're going to unravel anyways I can't help it. It's not time yet, for you to remember this." _

_"How many...?"_

_"This will be the fourth time. I'm not... I'm not changing -big- things, just the memory of them. But if you cause a ruckus like you did in the last one everything ends sooner." That slight, sad smile shifted into a more mournful one as Sors looked back towards the First Architect, sitting embedded in a throne of crystal. "It's a shame though. It's just maintenance but it still has to be fixed every few centuries... If only your secret wasn't perfect memory. It's so much easier when people don't look too closely."_

_"What you do is a -sin-." The words were hissed out from between his teeth, and Emet-Selch felt his fingers twitch as anger flared through him, bright and hot. "To alter the recollection of our history...!"_

_"It's necessary. One day, if everything works out, you'll know why. But until then, **forget**." Sors jotted something down in the book and that mournful smile turned back into a slight sad one. Emet-Selch sucked in a breath as he tried to fight it, recognizing the edges of a death being inflicted as part of his memory was -killed-, while the maskless man turned and quickly left - _

_Hades shook himself from his idle musings of the way the crystal caught the light, utterly alone.)_

_(When he caught sight of Sors, something within him shifted with -dislike-. It was a visceral, gut feeling of dislike, and he eyed the other man cautiously. He realized just how much he didn't know about him, and sipped from the wineglass he held as he watched the weaselly man from across the room. When he reached for the book the Architect found himself wondering why his panic was rising, before a minor nova of aether expanded outwards. Death-aspected. And... bearing his own colours?_

_That didn't make any sense. Eyes narrowing, he set down the wineglass when he realized nobody was actually dying. How very odd. Not only that nothing bad had happened, but also that Sors was meeting his eye calmly and making his way over. _

_"Honourable Emet-Selch. I'm sorry." _

_"What are-?" He snapped a hand out to try and pull the book away, some part of him recognizing it as dangerous before he nodded slowly in greeting. Believing the man had only just now approached, he reached for his wine to take another sip. Sors smiled slightly relieved, before moving on with a polite farewell.)_

Hades found himself leaning against a tree trunk with a splitting headache and not quite sure how he had gone from sitting in his study to one of the trees on his lawn. His throat hurt, and when he turned to take stock of his surroundings he noted that his aether was _everywhere_. It hung like a miasma in the air and killed the grass and trees. The first thing he thought to himself was a series of increasingly nasty words aimed at the weaselly man. 

The second was that he was just about fed up with time travel as an entire concept. Lifting both hands, he rubbed at his temples and then blinked as he felt familiar aether tickle the edge of his property. A sigh escaped him as he meandered over to where the Warrior of Light had climbed over the wall and promptly face planted onto the ground. 

"Anybody else and they would be dead right now, you know."

"I know." She twisted to beam up at him as he helped her up, brushing her off. "One've the perks of being in contact with your aether so much I guess. What happened though?"

"Someone was _partially murdering my memories_ it seems. I managed to recover the information, but-"

"It was Sors, right?" She peered up at him, stepping in to wrap her arms around his waist. 

"How did you know?" Reflexively, the ascian settled his hands on her back and stared down at her, frowning faintly. 

"Beeecause I sort of maybe had a talk with him, and, uhh..." Priscilla cleared her throat. "Yeah, so it seems that using bits of Omega to make something that can travel through time isn't exclusive to Cid. I think Omega might've even given him that idea in the first place, but I dunno for sure about that. C'mon, let's go and sit down and I can explain it to you as best I can. Twelve, I'm still tryin' to make sense of it myself."


	67. V 2.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought about keeping this one and the next one as one whole big slab but then I went 'nah fam'.

Emet-Selch took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. _Something_ was bothering his little monster, but she refused to talk about it. Her explanation had consisted of 'time travel' 'Sors acted as a Convocation member for a bit' and 'they had to keep trying'. When he tried to tease more information out of her, she got a _look_ on her face that he knew well. Stubbornness, thick as Garlean cermet and harder to break with out a tool. Fortunately, he was was the Architect. He knew a thing or two about _Garlean cermet_.

First, he observed. No, that was wrong. First he made sure to pull his aether back in, and then settled himself on his couch and pulled her across his lap so that he could start massaging her shoulders. -Then- he observed. 

Her aether roiled uncomfortably. Guilt and... grief? No, not quite. Resignation. Guilt meant it might have been something she thought she had or hadn't done, perhaps. Resignation ticked it over into something she was going to do, and did _not_ look forward to. Emet-Selch sat in silence as he slowly worked a knot out of her shoulder, measuring the way she was slowly relaxing. 

Disgust was something he was familiar with. When it surged through her as she mulled over whatever it was she was contemplating, he felt his lips twitch into a frown. "... Little monster."

Priscilla grunted, and pillowed her chin on her hands. 

"Of all the places you could be, my _lap_ should rank somewhat higher on the list than wherever it is that your head has wandered off to. Come, speak. I found your previous answer unsatisfactory-"

"It's not that I don't want to. It just feels like... I dunno. I don't _like_ it." She shifted slightly, rolling under his hands to settle face-up and scooting down enough that she could use his lap as a pillow. Hades huffed at her, and waved a hand through the air. 

"If I could stand your presence while tempered by Zodiark himself, I believe I can handle whatever it is that you might say."

Priscilla stared at him, quiet for a long moment. 

And then she told him.

* * *

Emet-Selch clapped his hands as he stepped into the chamber they were using for a meeting hall to get the attention of the other inhabitants of the room. Everyone was assembled, and he moved to the center of the room and placed both hands against the table. Eschaton had filed in after him, and moved to take her customary perch on the edge of the table. 

"In light of the recent new information, it has come to my attention that there are very few possibilities for success, when it comes to defeating both Zodiark and the Doom. My little monster and I have talked it over for a great deal of time, and come to the conclusion that we have an opportunity here. Zodiark is all but defeated, fragmented and we hold the key to His destruction. 'Tis plain to see that our next step must needs be the gentlest Ardor we can manage. The main fragment of His mind lies within the slumbering dragon here, in Azys Lla. Our plan is that both Polydegmon and I will accompany Eschaton to the remaining shard and, between the two of us, gather all of the remaining souls and bring them to Hydaelyn."

"Pray tell, what recent doth thou speak of?" Urianger frowned faintly, pale gold eyes meeting pale gold before the Ascian heaved a sigh. 

"That we are moving too _slowly_. Ever has it been our way, to tweak things through the ages. Our current momentum is simply not enough." A twisted truth, and one that Emet-Selch continued on from with practiced ease and a wave of his hand. "I would go into more detail, Augurelt, but we need you and Emmerololth to continue working to try and find a way to wake Deudalaphon up. There is no one else that i can think of with a greater chance of success. This _does_ bring us to our next point however. Eschaton?"

"Lahabrea, you and Igeyorhm need to head to Hydaelyn and see if you can convince her to tell you where the pieces of Nabriales are. We've paired you this way because you both were going to do it before, and you're the Speaker. You can charm boots onto a _cat_ if you put your mind to it. And because Igeyorhm is the only other expert we have on shepherding souls." The Warrior grinned as both Convocation members shared a glance and then nodded. "Elidibus, you take Zenos and Mitron. The three of you are on Zodiark Duty. Everyone else needs to do as much as they can for setting up the Aetherites across the source and the shards. Work as a group. There's still the remnants of the armies of voidspawn out there somewhere, and I don't _like_ that I don't know where they are."

"Everyone understands their assignments?" Emet-Selch panned his gaze around the room, narrowing them when he caught the utterly unenthused expression on his grandson's face. "_Don't_ give me that look, Boy. I'm giving you first crack at the complete, undamaged _god_ that I served for millennia should He manage to get through."

The Garlean Emperor's expression brightened, before his face split into a grin that was all teeth. Before he could speak, however, Priscilla stood up on the table and cleared her throat. 

"So, I know there was a bit've a kerfluffle with the number of Convocation members, but uhh... Yeah. We've got it sorted. Turns out it doesn't actually matter, because there's too much stuff going on to worry about it. We've got who we've got." The Warrior lifted a hand to idly tug on her scarf. "So... Don't worry about it until everything's done and over with. We'll look into it then."

"Well said." The Architect drew himself up, looking over to Polydegmon and waving him over. "Any questions, before we head out?"

"Thou hath been absent for three days..." The elezen pushed himself up slightly, frowning only to pause as his eyes widened, catching the shift in the aether around his lovers. "Thine intent is to continue without rest, then?"

"Yeah. We've got a lot of ground t'cover and I don't rightly remember how many shards are left. If nothing else though, I'll keep him safe." Eschaton made her way over and hopped down from the table to wrap her arms around Urianger in a hug, butting her head lightly against his chest. "We'll be back before you know it."

* * *

As it turned out, there was only one shard left. The Eighth. The home of the Crellbron.

"Hey, so if we manage to get all the shards meshed back into the Source, d'you think everyone'll become Amaurotine people again? Super tall, loaded with magic?"

"For the life of me, I simply _cannot_ tell if you are more curious about the prospect of possibly becoming tall or if you look forward to being empowered." Emet-Selch rolled his eyes as Priscilla jostled him. She wanted to thump him on the shoulder or back, but the white-knuckled grip she had on his coat prevented that as they drifted through the emptiness between the moon and the shimmering web of aether that coated the world itself. 

"Everyone's taller than me! I could be the most badass person in the entire world-"

"-Which, strictly speaking, I think you qualify for simply by virtue of being the go-to eikon slayer." Polydegmon interjected, earning a raspberry blown in his direction as the Warrior noted how far out of reach he was. 

"-But I'll never be tall!"

"Did you or did you _not_ drink some horribly fake liquid and then smooth out your scars." Hades huffed as he was jostled once more. "You could have taken the opportunity to give yourself a few extra inches, if it bothers you that much."

"Technically true but still! I'd be... I dunno. Not quite me any more." Priscilla grumbled as they briefly touched down on the stark white surface. Her grip remained tight on his coat as both Ascians started to smoothly glide along to the tunnel Elidibus had dug into the moon, the same as he had for the moons of all of the other shards. 

"-Please-, as if your height - or lack thereof - defines you." 

"Emet-Selch so help me, I _will_ let go of you just to kick your ass." 

"Kick my ass later but let go anyway. We are here." He smirked at her as she grumbled before gesturing to the floor as they drifted into the underground cathedral. A square patch vanished, and the three of them made their way down into the darkness together.


	68. V 2.5

Polydegmon was no more braced for potential combat with a fragment of Zodiark than he had been when he had traveled with Emet-Selch and Zenos. There was a difference this time, however. A key factor that was missing in the last one. 

_Priscilla._

Watching Zenos fight as he prayed (he hadn't even been sure who he was praying to at the time) that he could keep the barrier strong enough that the fragment didn't simply _leave_, The former Architect had found himself watching both Galvus' trade off and work to chip away at the piece of the primal. Emet-Selch had clad himself in his armor and donned his sword and shield on the way down, and so was better prepared this time, but watching him stand next to Eschaton as she settled defensively by the awakening fragment made him _feel_ things. 

Bitter things. 

When he thought about it, this version of himself had been fighting at her side for some time. Whereas he... Never really had. Sure, they had traveled to other moons and recovered the souls and yes, Polydegmon had watched her fight from a distance but...

Zodiark compacted down into a humanoid form, and he was distracted from his thoughts by the necessity of providing a platform for Priscilla to stand on. Hades (it still felt weird calling him by the name they would always share) had taken up position just behind her, feet shoulder width apart and looking for all the world as if they were fighting any average beast instead of a fragment of a _god_. Envy curled through him, and he fought it down as as Priscilla spun and leapt, feet connecting with the shield before she was flung towards Zodiark with a surprising amount of momentum. 

A blast of aether intercepted her, but she came through it seemingly none the worse for wear before impacting with one of the crystalline limbs. One curved blade was sunk in to anchor her before the other came up and flashed down. A warping of space turned the blow aside before another wave of aether washed out and crashed against the barrier. 

_ **<<My wayward child... Lower thy barrier, dispel thy work.>>** _

Oh, _no, _nonono-

"OI FUCKER! YOU SURE YOU OUGHT-A BE FOCUSIN' ON HIM!?" Eschaton's voice snapped him out of the mounting panic as Zodiark's voice disappeared abruptly from his mind, replaced instead by an entirely audible scream of agony from the crystal mass. The Warrior had hacked off one of the arms, and turned a grin more fitting on the face of his great grandson up at the primal. "That's right! Eyes on me, asshole!"

Polydegmon understood then, why it was that the younger Emet-Selch could stand shoulder to shoulder with her. He understood why the first Emperor of Garlemald had a sword and shield, aether wrapped tight to keep from being effected by the mental manipulations and could _keep moving_. Why the Architect flanked and tugged free a handful of souls here and there as Priscilla danced and capered, fully capable of simply hacking through the fragment and Sundering through it. 

* * *

Priscilla worked to always, _always_ keep herself flanking with Emet-Selch. Even if she couldn't see him, she knew he could feel her aether. It was like a dance. She would zig, and he would zag. It didn't always work, but she noted that together they were wearing the primal down steadily. More and more it would turn to try and focus on the Architect, which meant she would have to intercept and hit it harder than she wanted to so that Zodiark would turn back to her. 

It was interesting. She had been given a run down on the basic abilities shortly before they left, which meant that she wasn't having to scramble to figure out why a strike from her blades would abruptly skew left or right as it was displaced. That didn't mean that the sensation of it wasn't _weird_. It was pure redirection of momentum. That wasn't all, either. 

Though the fragment of Zodiark wasn't strong enough to use more than one of the Convocation's abilities at a time, that didn't mean that it had the same limitations as a regular primal. Zodiark was ancient, and had slumbered for a very long time after spending most of His waking years fixing problems. At that moment, it was faced with a problem it had faced before, but it also had the vague memory of a more complete version disturbing His dreams. 

He needed more information. Projected estimates indicated this was _not_ a battle He could win, nor one he could escape. He pulled to himself the fragment of Mitron's secret, and huddled. 

** _<<Stop. Stop! I surrender!>>_ **

"Wait, what?" Overbalanced, the Warrior staggered as her swing was sent wide, recovering after a few steps. "Oh that is such _bullshit_. You don't surrender. You -never- surrender. There isn't a part of you capable of surrendering to anyone."

_ **<<Dost thou not have one of my oldest followers committing blasphemy, in duplicate?>> ** _

The Warrior blinked at that, and then glanced over to where Emet-Selch was settled in a defensive stance. He seemed just as confused as she felt, but she trusted him to let her know if the primal was doing anything with it's aether that would indicate an attack of some kind. Adrenaline still surged through her, but she wrestled the impulse to _move_, to _fight_ under control and tapped the flat of one of her blades against her thigh. "'S true enough, that. But I can't just let you go, you know. There's no version of this where you walk away, because you're just gunna eventually try and devour the world anyway. And I can't let you do that."

The primal was silent for a moment, still as it remained flanked. 

** _<<'Tis my will, to protect this star. To destroy it is blasphemy.>>_ **

"Yeah, at one point that was true." Another glance was given to the Architect, who met her eye with a baffled look. "_You_ tasked the Ascians with cultivating life on the star just so you could _eat_ it." 

** _<<To restore those who gave their essence and aether to empower me. T'was their wish. Something cannot be produced from nothing.>>_ **

The Warrior paused, before clearing her throat. "Well, yeah... But you..."

_ **<<Thou wouldst tear the aether away that sustains me, in vengeance for something requested that hath not yet occurred, wished for by the survivors of the Sundering.>>** _

"You're -evil-! Look, we already dealt with one piece of you that got free and immediately turned around trying to claim dominion of the world as the one True God. I don't know what you're planning, but I'm _not_ gunna let that happen." Priscilla stabbed the blade towards the primal, scowling at the tip was forced aside by the ripple in the air surrounding Zodiark. "So you can take your 'Oh i'm not really a bad guy' and stuff it up your-"

** _<<I wish to fulfill my purpose. I wish to -live-. Canst thou truly begrudge me these desires?>>_ **

"You're a primal! Wanting to -live- isn't-" She faltered, blinking. "... There was an awful lot've people who wanted to -live- giving their aether to you. Who's greatest wish, was for people and the star to live."

Pale gold eyes rolled before Emet-Selch slowly shook his head. "I don't know if I ought to feel _vindicated_ or unsettled that you are seriously considering letting this fragment of Zodiark leave, little Monster."

"I'm not! I just... I'm thinking of every single really -good- point that you've ever made when you were tempered by Him." Priscilla grimaced, eyeing the primal. "Look, let's just... Get this over with and get what we came here for."

* * *

Hades drifted with Priscilla in a slow orbit around Hydaelyn. Polydegmon had returned to the Ironworks once everything had been restored to Hydaelyn. They were silent for a long moment, hand in hand, before the Ascian heaved a sigh. 

"Are we going to talk about it? I know this bothers you."

"He -talked-! And I don't just mean 'Bow down for I am the ultimate god'. He -surrendered-! That shouldn't've been possible!" Briefly letting go of him, the Warrior flailed wildly in exasperation before reaching to muckle onto the hand he offered out to her once more. "Hnnn, I _hate_ space."

"-Please-, as if I would let you drift away into the vast emptiness _alone_. Think on what we know of the people who worked on the creation of Zodiark, notably the -Speaker- and the -Emissary-. 'Tis passing strange that none have properly attempted thus far. What baffles _me_ is that He did not try anything while conversing." Emet-Selch pulled her closer, tucking his other hand against her lower back to start swinging them both slowly through a facsimile of a waltz. "It is worrisome however, to think that all it takes to get you to hesitate is some semblance of negotiation or surrender."

"It can get exploited, yeah. But this isn't exactly -new-." She grimaced, latching onto the lapel of his coat with her free hand. "So what do we have left. Aetherites to make anchorpoints and then shuffle everything back together as gently as possible?" 

"Yes. And then, we determine viable methods to stem the Doom. 'Tis only a matter of time, after all. We -do- have several resources we can utilize this time that we did not in the past, however." The Ascian tisked, letting go of her hand to pry her own off his coat and settle it onto his shoulder. Taking her hand once more, he resumed their starlit waltz, drifting along. "I am more concerned about how the crellbron are going to work, with what I hope is the inevitable restoration of our people. They do not age, they are essentially sentient animated corpses. Their aether is stilled, beyond the small amount that they expend for their casting."

"'Cause What's-his-nuts, uhh... Kel'louch, is a fragment of me?"

"Precisely. Normally, you would become closer to completion because your fragment has died and that aether has rejoined you. But because he cannot die by natural or normal means, this poses a -problem-." Emet-Selch frowned, watching her as they drifted further away from Hydaelyn. "This implies the only way to restore you fully is to kill -you- and have your essence meld into his, or have him willingly give himself up." 

"So, fun fact, his kind -can- get killed, but I just get better."

"No, little monster. His kind can be _destroyed_. There is a difference. Take it from an expert, the only way he will stop functioning is complete and utter destruction of his aether. For example, those of his ilk who gave their 'existence' to forge their lock are still technically -there-. They simply make up the lock. Which is why it can allow people to pass through it willingly when necessary or focus on stopping someone making an attempt." 

"... Okay, alright, so we, I dunno. Ask him nicely, then. 'Hey, are you tired of existing? Why not join me.'" 

"Actually, 'tis exactly what I had hoped to do." Hades eyed her, before letting go of her hand and cupping the side of her face. "I _will_ see you whole. My goal of restoring our loved ones and those lost to us has not changed."

The Warrior frowned faintly, before shifting to rub her cheek against his glove. "Maybe find a way to get Altima out've me too?"

"Oh very well..."


	69. V 2.6(9)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch 69.  
you know what that means  
Content warning: somewhat graphic depictions of sex

"So that's the last of the Aetherites?" Priscilla's voice echoed through the vast chamber as she peered at the dozen masses of blue crystal, edged in gold that each slowly, lazily rotated in place. Urianger nodded, sitting tiredly down in a chair by a table and glancing towards the map. 

"Verily, T'was no small feat, but the knowledge of Hythlodaeus hath aided my endeavor in producing such." A hand was waved towards them, before he looked at the Warrior. She had sidled over to blink innocently at him before the elezen patted his lap. A grin settled on her features as she plopped down obligingly. "All that remains-"

"-Is their deployment." Emet-Selch rounded one of the crystals, having finished his inspection before he draped himself over the back of both the chair and the astrologian's shoulder. "Which will be completed by Mitron with Lohgrif as a bodyguard."

"Makes sense. When you need to move something, the Ascian with the powers of traveling places is certainly the go-to guy." Priscilla leaned enough to press a kiss against first one, then the other of her boys cheeks. "There's your reward. Good work."

"_Somehow_ I feel cheated." Hades huffed, before lazily tilting his head to watch her. 

"Wasn't it you who said something along the lines of 'oh, aetherites are _so_ easy to make, I could just snap my fingers and whip up four score and twenty'?" A grin was aimed at the Ascian, who scowled and then eyed Urianger as the elezen nodded sagely in agreement.

"What? No. I never said anything of the sort."

"Tis true enough that thy words at the time conveyed a certain ease with which thou intended to impress..."

"'Sides, my kisses are worth -tons-. So there." The Warrior slid free from the astrologian's lap so that she could meander towards the floating masses of crystal, putting her back to the sour look that was being aimed her way. "Why's it always seem to come down to crystals."

"-Please-, you _greatly_ overvalue your kisses. They hold worth but not equivalent to the aether in an aetherite." A gloved hand was waved, before Emet-Selch found his head turned towards Urianger's by way of the finger tucked under his chin. 

"Truly, thy words merit revision yet also lead to the next question. Hath thou perhaps considered the worth of mine own?"

"Worth _far_ more than hers, is what I would love to say." The ascian's lips curled upwards, before he shifted to press them against the astrologians. "...Regrettably, they hold equal value."

"But it -is- a value. Y'know, we never did get the math all figured on that I don't think." The Warrior meandered over to the table, inspecting the map and covertly enjoying the view of both of her boys enjoying each other. She leaned for a moment, and whistled lowly. "Damn. You guys make sturdy chairs. That doesn't look like it should hold both've you."

"Augurelt made this one." Hades blinked, eyes partially closing as the elezen took advantage of the way he had lifted his chin and turned his head to start pressing small kisses along the side of his neck. "Value is determined by situational use and effectiveness."

"So it stands to reason that kisses -can- be very effective, if used right. As per the demonstration Uri's putting on." Priscilla's grin grew as she circled the table and then hopped up to sit on the edge, swinging her feet. "I'd bet my bottom gil that you've got a hard on."

"One of the many perks of Garlean outerwear. 'Tis _incredibly_ concealing." One shimmy forward, a short moment where the ascian became weightless so that he could float floated and a roll later had Emet-Selch settled comfortably sideways in Urianger's lap, one arm around the elezen's shoulders. 

"That reminds me, I gotta talk to you about Allagan fashion. Not right now, but I _really_ wanna know what was going on in your head when you thought those looked cool." The Warrior stretched her legs out to pile them onto the stacked laps. "Now, i'm not good with math? But effort's gotta be a factor too. A lack of effort can devalue something too. Like uhh..."

"Quality control?" Urianger hummed out a quietly satisfied sound as Hades slipped a hand up the back of his neck to start massaging the base of his scalp. 

"Yeah! Like that. So we've got a kiss on one side, and the value on the other. Determined by situational use, quality which ties into effort, and effectiveness. Wait, wouldn't effectiveness also tie into quality?" 

"Low quality water and high quality water will both put out a fire equally effectively. Quality tends to determine _durability. _Which such ephemeral things as kisses tend to lack. Truly, if you wish to determine the value of a kiss, it should be something along the lines of intention, effort and situational use, minus duration." Emet-Selch gestured vaguely with his free hand, loosely sketching out the equation in the air. "Intention with the subsection of emotional weal and woe, effort with the subsection of tongue and lip maneuvering, and situational use as determined by physical location and... Augurelt, did her eyes glaze over."

"Indeed."

"Eh?" Priscilla blinked, before holding up her hands. "Wh- I was paying atte-!"

"I _certainly_ trust your words over my own perception from time to time, and as such shall work under the assumption that she stopped paying attention." A gloved hand reached out to cover her mouth as the Ascian hummed. "Perhaps a physical demonstration is in order, then."

Pale gold eyes met matching pale gold, before they both nodded to one another and then focused on the Warrior as she started to catch on.

* * *

They relocated to their quarters. Not because of any great need to physically hide, but because Priscilla had come to be aware of the fact that every ascian within Azys Lla _could feel their aether_, and it was generally considered particularly rude to do so outside of a shielded and warded location anyways. As much as she wasn't particularly shy, the thought of traumatizing poor Mitron had the Warrior feeling slightly guilty, even though she hadn't done anything yet. 

Emet-Selch had also said that it didn't particularly matter to him, but she figured that might have just been him being smug about making Elidibus avoid looking directly at him for a week. Priscilla chalked that one up to male pride, and left it alone as she stripped out of her clothes. Two sets of hands helped her, and kept her by and large distracted as she settled between them. 

What made it more distracting was that both of them kept asking her _questions_. On a scale of one to ten, how much did she like it when Urianger ran his hands along her lower back? Out of one to ten, how much did she like it when Hades fisted a hand in her short hair? 

They both had the absolutely -horrible- tendency to distract her with words just as she was getting close to the edge. She could feel the electric heat fizzling through her, nerves alight from clever fingers across the sensitive bud of her clit and the smooth glide of her astrologian's shaft through her folds before he would withdraw and clinically ask how strongly she could feel his absence. She had almost told him exactly what she thought of his absence, wound up and frustrated, but a low chuckle and promise from Hades that the elezen would continue if she humoured them and answered properly had her biting back harsher words than she might have originally voiced. 

By the end of it, she was exhausted and surprisingly sated. The worries of the placement of the aetherites and the reshuffling of the shards was a distant thing, and she dozed peacefully as she was carefully cleaned up.

* * *

The Warrior stared blankly at the expanse of bare thigh that she was currently resting her cheek against. Priscilla and Emet-Selch remained in the bed while Urianger had left to go and grab some water for the three of them. 

"... Never thought sex could have so much -math-..."

"Hedonic calculus, little Monster." Hades stretched out his unoccupied leg, sounding smug. "You did well enough in answering our questions, however." 

"Kinda got hard to for a bit there with your dick in my mouth."

"That _did_ complicate it towards the end, yes." 

They both lapsed into a comfortable silence until the elezen returned with a large glass. Aether wove about it as Emet-Selch reached out, drawing it effortlessly over the bed and into his grasp so that he could take a sip. Urianger crawled across the bed to stretch out and sandwich Priscilla against the ascian's legs. 

"'Tis a lesson we would be more than willing to repeat, should thou find thyself in need of a refresher course. Math, as thou art oft to admit, is not thy strong suit."


	70. V 2.7 (Ending 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue edit in place

Polydegmon smiled slightly to himself. The aetherites were in place. The populations of the Shards and the Source had been forewarned, and there was a member of the Convocation in every major city on standby to prevent catastrophe. The problem, and one that he hadn't told anyone when he had discovered it, was that Hydaelyn simply wasn't strong enough. 

When She had sundered the star, She had been at the height of her power. Fresh, in a sense. It had been countless thousands of years since then, and not only was the majority of Her aether tied up in converting the Doom within Her, but the Ascians themselves had spent an awful lot of time working on weakening Her. The time She had spent devouring and altering the aether of the Thirteenth had given Her a -bit- of a boost, as it seemed easier to manage than the sickness She contained, but still... 

It wasn't enough. 

The former Architect knew that the younger version of himself wasn't an idiot, but he had done what he could to hide the worst of it. Hydaelyn had once passingly mentioned that She intended to use Herself, after all, to fix it. All of Herself. There would be nothing left. 

He didn't like that. Without Hydaelyn, nobody could match the inevitable invasion of Zodiark. And if he wanted even the slightest chance for the Eschaton trapped within Him to find freedom... 

His solution was almost poetic. Polydegmon went to the Vault, and gathered the aether that remained there. He went to the Crystal Tower of the Source, and removed the slumbering G'raha Tia. It would not do, after all, for someone _she_ had liked to pay the price for his efforts. After that, he had gotten to work. 

Adjustments were made. The original purpose of the tower was to draw and collect the power of the sun, and was an untapped resource with how the doors had sealed. It had sat there, collecting and storing energy quietly ever since the upheaval of the Seventh Umbral Era. 

It still wasn't enough. Calculations were made. More alterations to the tower itself. He had almost worried that it wouldn't be finished in time, but after one of his stints back to Azys Lla to keep up something resembling the illusion that he was still helping them place aetherites it seemed that someone had stopped by and half-finished the job for him. 

That was bad. It meant someone else knew. From the empty clone lounging on the throne at the top of the tower, he had a particularly good idea as to who it was, too. Polydegmon took the help as the unspoken blessing it was. When the day came that the shards were to be returned to the Source, he made his way to the top of the tower and stared at the way Hades eyed him blandly from his seat. 

"You truly _do_ intend to go through with this."

"-Please-, if you took issue with what I was preparing for, your aid would have been sabotage instead."

A gloved hand was waved, as if to waft away the former Architect's words. "I have made my promise regarding _your_ version of _my_ wife. I have things here worth living for, tiresome as it can get. You, on the other hand..."

"I had no choice-"

"Your other option was to _die_. Fitting, that it comes back to that." Sighing, Emet-Selch swung down from the throne, drifting aside. "It wasn't -my- plan to turn the Tower into a giant aetheric accelerator. You started this project knowing full well what would happen. We both have first hand experience in seeing the effects, after all."

Polydegmon stared, before sighing and drifting up to the throne. Turning, he settled down into the seat, and leaned against the back of the chair. Two pairs of eyes turned upwards towards where Hydaelyn could be faintly seen in the distance. "Did you help me because you figured out that Hydaelyn Herself is not enough?"

"I helped you because I know there is more behind your choice to do this than simply making it up to Persephone. You stopped me from making the same decision on the First when you helped her_ aim_." 

"That seems more like a reason as to why you would stop me." The former Architect felt his features pull into a frown, and glanced towards his younger self. 

Emet-Selch rotated slowly in mid-air, and _smiled_. 

* * *

Priscilla paced atop Azys Lla. The leaders of every major faction had returned to their respective cities to prepare for the incoming mitigated disaster. Even Urianger was out there, his newfound mastery of aether making him one of the best people to help keep things stable. Unfortunately, that left her alone. 

Emet-Selch was supposed to be at Revenant's Toll. Tataru had, when asked by way of linkshell, told her that there was no sign of him in the area. When a rift opened nearby, she spun and almost reached out, expecting the Architect only to blink and drop her hand to her side as Zenos stepped out instead. Lightly armored, a large coat draped over his shoulders, he carried two blunted metal longswords and smirked at her as she made a face. 

"Come now my Beast. Is it not a fitting thing, for rivals to cross blades at the end of the world?"

"Small problem with that. It's not the end've the world. Rather hoping it'll be a beginning, really." The practice sword that he offered to her was waved away with a look of irritation, before she turned and leaned against the railing. "Shouldn't you be in Garlemald?"

"Van Baelsar is reassuring the people. My place is in the thick of the fighting, as all else bores me." The current Garlean emperor leaned both training weapons against the nearby wall, before joining her at the railing. "I will admit, to see you pace like a caged animal reassures me that you and I are still two of a kind."

"I wish it were a more patient kind." Heaving a sigh, she draped herself over the top bar and stared mournfully at the clouds. "Seems to only include patience in the kit when it comes to waiting out an opponent."

"Alas, such is the way of it." Folding his arms neatly, the blond swordsman leaned out and tilted his head. "I thought a spar would ease your mind."

"What's this? Zenos zos Galvus, thinking about someone else's _wellbeing_ instead of how to reduce the number of -limbs- they've got?" The Warrior turned and shifted a foot, kicking lightly at the Garlean's shin. He chuckled in response, warding away her foot with his own. 

"Come now Eikon-slayer. I have always had your health in mind. Did I not hope for you to heal, to grow in strength right from the very day you broke my sword with your body?" His words drew a snort from Priscilla, and he reached out to shove her. "If you must see it as selfishness, then consider it from the angle of how few individuals I am able to fight at my full strength. If I cannot kill you, then naught else is allowed to. Especially if such a blow comes from within your own psyche."

"I mean, not wrong? But you 'caring' about others always has _some_ flavour of intended eventual murder thrown in." She staggered away with the push, before sticking her tongue out at Zenos. 

"Are we not friends? Come, speak. Tell me of what ails you. If it cannot be killed, there are other ways to defeat such foes." 

"Y'know, sometimes I forget that you're supposed to actually be _smart_ too." She huffed, before rejoining him at the railing and draping herself against the top rung once more. 

"Many do. Most things simply _bore_ me, and so I leave them for others as is right of an Emperor. Speak." The blond swordsman turned to look back out at the clouds, watching the idle patterns as she heaved a sigh. 

"Fine. But if you start looking about ready to fall asleep, I'm pushing you over the railing." Priscilla lapsed silent for a moment, before tilting her head to regard the massive Garlean next to her. "... It just. I dunno. It feels -weird- to think that the fighting's over, y'know? This is _it_. Once this is done, then it's settling territorial disputes between people who are essentially the same person, just different parts. And then, when those parts die, they rejoin in the lifestream and those people are -whole- again."

"Is this not your goal?" Zenos sounded almost bored, though a too-wide smile was threatening to break out across his face. 

"It _is_ but... I dunno. I've got a bad feeling. And Emet-Selch's not where he's supposed to be-"

_("-intends to do something incredibly stupid." Solus folded his arms as he stared at his great-grandson, watching as the blond swordsman flipped another pen and lobbed it upwards to stick into the ceiling alongside the others. "I need -you- to distract her while I steal Tiamat."_

_"And what will you do with the dragon, and the shard of Zodiark that festers with it?" Another pen was scrounged out of a drawer. Zenos didn't like the way it felt in his hand. He didn't like the way any of them felt in his hand. It inevitably joined the others in the ceiling tile._

_"Polydegmon has worked to alter the Crystal Tower of the Source into an aetheric accelerator, and utilizing himself as a spark hopes to pay enough of the cost required to allow Hydaelyn to survive. Mitron has agreed to move him, and Tiamat has agreed to act as the spark. We appealed to Zodiark's inherent drive to protect the Star, although I have my doubts. With myself, Polydegmon and Mitron we have enough sheer force there to ensure He does not break free regardless."_

_"She will be suspicious if I simply show up and challenge her to a spar now of all times."_

_"Do it anyway. You cannot tell her what is to be done. You -know- my little Monster will try and interfere somehow.")_

Priscilla stared at the current Garlean Emperor as a wide grin crossed his features. 

"... Well, I mean you didn't _tell_ me. I don't suppose I can convince you to take me to the Crystal Tower, can I?"

"He rather promised to do the boring parts of ruling Garlemald for the next decade if I neglect to do so. What will you do now, I wonder?"

* * *

Hydaelyn rotated where she floated. The last aetherite was in place. She reached out, pulling gently on all the scattered strings that threaded through the Source and the Shards. She had long since made peace with Her end. The cycle of life had started without Her, and would continue without Her just fine. Dutifully, She brought each Shard into alignment and watched as the Star gently swelled with the gathered aether. Here, the land grew heavy with increased gravity that was deflected away from the populace by one Ascian. There, souls ran rampant, shepherded gently by another back into the lifestream. Poison spread outwards in a nova from Aurum Vale, before being corralled by water and ice. 

The Primal continued to rotate, enjoying the way they rejoiced as they realized there was another player in the field. Late, but not by too much, and with a great deal more experience when it came to countering toxins. She wasn't sure if they even noticed the way the Lock from the Eighth Shard settled neatly into place around the Source, protecting it as their spirits lifted. 

Then came the difficult part. Shuffling the land itself into the Source, along with the inhabitants. Her aether quaked-

** _<<Thou hath much unfamiliar work to do that thou lacks the strength to complete. Pray, accept my aid, and destroy not the Source.>>_ **

_<<Thy work hath put the very souls of the Star at risk once.>>_

** _<<Perhaps. But the haze of fear hath lifted and clarity of purpose is_ _ restored.>>_ **

_<<What proof is there, that thou speaketh true?>>_

_{I rise and join the chorus.}_

That was good enough for Her.

* * *

"You were hoping that I'd try and whump you for not taking me to the crystal Tower, weren't you. So that you'd be able to fight me anyways." Zenos simply grinned wider, all teeth, as the Warrior swatted at him and glowered. "Asshat. You know I could survive the fall and just -walk- there before they're all done their work, right?'

"You could." The blond swordsman admitted, turning back to watch the way the land rippled and broke with the materialization of one Shard or another. "But by then regardless of your stamina, speed or intent it would be too late. It already is, it seems."

"I hate you." Priscilla flopped against the railing, grumbling, watching and hoping that at least one of her boys was where they were supposed to be. 

Zenos just laughed at that, and watched the way the world changed before them.

* * *

Epilogue edit

Polydegmon sat on the bottom-most stair in Syrcus tower. Above him, he could feel the way aether twisted and curled through the world and the changes being made. The faintly familiar taste of the First, and the arrival of the other Crystal Tower, combined with the Crystarium. The way Feo Ul, a spirit he had heard much of and sensed briefly here and there, rocketed towards Azys Lla. The resurgence of Nabriales. 

That last one was one he had forewarning about. Over the course of speaking with Hydaelyn he had confirmed the rebirth and, while they were by all rights technically a baby, they were granted much of the knowledge they would otherwise have lost. He himself had falsified a meteor shower to jog the memories in between trips tomthe other Shards. Lahabrea, who had worked with the Healer, was pleasantly surprized and just because it wasnt -his- Nabriales didnt mean that the former Architect wasnt going to find some solace in the reinstatement of the last of the missing Convocation members. All that was left was for Deudalaphon to heal and awaken. Then, everything would be the way it _should_ have been.

In this world, at least. It remained to be seen about his own. 

Footsteps approached, and drew him from his thoughts. Emet-Selch, himself but younger, himself but impossibly -luckier- who settled himself a short distance away. The Architect who had asked Mitron to remove him from the throne and put the now-dying remnants of Zodiark and Tiamat on it in his place. They, who were willingly dying in his place out of a sense of duty and an urge to seek a death with _meaning._ The death that should have been his.

"It isn't nice, is it, when someone takes away your ability to choose where you die and what to."

"The difference is that I did it to try and give you a chance at a happier future that I missed. What, pray tell, is your excuse?" The former Architect leaned back, stretching his legs out as he stared at his younger counterpart, disliking the smirk.

"Exactly the same." Hades leaned in, studying Polydegmon as his smirk grew. "Did my little monster not spell it out clear enough for you? You do not get to just _die. _None of us do. 'Tis too easy of an escape, because once you are gone, that is it. I am quite certain she would say the same if she had managed to get here herself."

"But someone else 'gets' that release it seems. What, exactly, is the difference?"

"The difference is strictly how much she would mourn you. There is a time and place, Polydegmon, but yours doesn't even lie in this reality. You have to find forgiveness from the right Priscilla, after all. The -correct- Persephone." The current Architect straightened as much as he ever seemed as he turned, raising one arm as the other flared out to the side. "If Nan Garlond can figure out time travel, and if -you- already did once, then it should be easy enough for me to figure it out. We have the second tower. My little monster will start to go stir crazy before the year is out, as much as I might want to sleep for a decade. All the pieces are _there_ 'tis simply a matter of finishing things."

There wasnt much that Polydegmon could say about that. 

"Besides. You know as well as I do that Zenos knows of this other, complete Zodiark. And good luck trying to stop _him_ from giving chase."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [B]easts laugh as the world continues to turn


	71. V2 (bonus chapter A)

Most people (essentially, everyone native to the Source) were aging far slower than they were before. Priscilla had noted a few weeks ago, teasingly, that Urianger was never going to be able to teach Alphinaud how to shave at the rate he was going, which of course had made the younger elezen pout. It had seemed that everything was -settled-, and while there hadn't yet been anything resembling another incursion by Zodiark, it didn't mean they were being complacent. 

That the Ascians were responsible for the majority of the aid in shuffling people around and making sure nobody died when the Shards had reunited with the Source was one of the worst kept secrets. A better kept one was that they were prominent figures in societies at times, similar to Emet-Selch. The best kept one was the fact that they had been responsible for Bahamut.

Society wasn't ready for that one. Not yet, at least. The plan was to be _diplomatic_, and Elidibus had admitted that it was a nice change of pace to be doing what had once counted as his actual job. Alphinaud was usually his main point of correspondence with the major faction leaders, and the two worked well together once they had finished hashing out the details of their plan to introduce the Ascians as a faction living in Dun Scaith. 

Lahabrea had started to give lectures again. He went back to Sharlayan and gave them the unedited version of the truth, and on weekends visited an area near one of the major cities at random to speak for hours on a topic of the crowds choosing. This kept him fairly busy for the most part, but not busy enough Thancred's taste. The hyur had made it a point to keep tabs on the Speaker. Everyone knew he was looking for an excuse to try and kill him, but Lahabrea found himself caring less and spending more and more time on assorted beaches pretending to enjoy the sun. 

(Eventually, it was less of a projected image and more the truth. He also monologued often about the way the sun warmed his scales and how enjoyable the drink at hand was, knowing that the gunbreaker was within earshot.)

The other ascians had found themselves turning to their personal projects or helping each other. Mitron, for example, had immediately turned around and bought a yacht so that he could map the waters of the world by hand. He could always just have teleported himself around, but he intended to catalog the various marine life he wound inevitably encounter. 'It will take longer that way, and I want to do something relaxing for once' Lohgrif quoted, even as he set his sights on the city of Rabanastre. What he was going to do there was anyone's guess, but he waved off any questions and stepped through a rift before anyone could stop him. 

Emmerololth had snagged Igeyorhm and Pashtarot and settled properly in Dun Scaith, working to build what defenses she could in the event that things went 'pear shaped'. 'Tits up' was the actual phrase used, but Pashtarot had been so scandalized at it that she had thrown her hands in the air and muttered about promising to try and not use that language. Deudalaphon, disoriented and groggy as the man was had gone with them, citing a need to rest and recover before promptly falling asleep on arrival to their new home. The Whisperer had sadly confirmed that he wasn't likely going to last much longer, and set Fandaniel to the task of finding a successor for the old goat. 

Nabriales, essentially stuck in the body of a midlander baby, spent most of his time in Gridania. He helped them advance their healing techniques, in the event that the elements one day refused to help them. He didn't tell them about the potential of the Doom occurring, but he hinted quite heavily at it. Kan-E-Senna, bless her heart, had the foresight to read his intent in his words and applied herself to preventative measures and monitoring the Star as best she could from the forest in ways that would prevent outright panic at the prospect.

Everything seemed to be working out. Hydaelyn worked through the sickness trapped within her, slowly converting it back into purified aether and returning it. She often hovered above Silvertear lake, flanked by both of the Crystal towers that stood and gathered sunlight to help restore her strength. The Crystal Exarch did what he could to help Alphinaud and Elidibus with their diplomatic missions, restricted as his ability to travel was, and kept the Crystarium open to act as neutral ground. 

This led to several unusual developments, as it inevitably turned into a cultural melting pot. Stories and rumours spread. Most of the other Ascians kept out of the public eye. 

Emet-Selch did not. 

Garleans already knew who and what he was, as word had long since spread about being a 'body hopping demon'. He did nothing to alter or warp the truth, but did hold true to his given word and start taking care of Garlemald. It was only for a decade, he remarked, and besides it would give him plenty of distractions to keep him from sinking too far into his latest project. Nothing the Warrior did seemed to convince him to tell her what, exactly, it was, but Polydegmon was working with him on it.

Neither of them would tell Zenos what it was either, which irritated him. He was particularly verbose when it came to telling Priscilla that, and as a result their infrequent meetings and subsequent hunting sessions often devolved into sparring matches. It was fortunate that they were both trying to one-up the other by bringing the most ineffective and useless weapons. The Garleans that had watched her meander through the city with a large, floppy rubber chicken in hand would and often did disagree with the thought that anything going on currently was 'fortunate' beyond the sudden stability their nation had inexplicably gained overnight. 

Out of all of them, Urianger spent the most time studying the contents of the libraries that had quite suddenly opened up to him. Because of this, and because he was doing so for the most part in Garlemald simply because both Hades and Priscilla were there, he was the first to find what was quite likely the most embarrassing thing to happen to the Architect. Lahabrea, who had come to speak with him regarding some of the matters in Sharlayan, had the good fortune of finding it the same day, specifically because the elezen had been so flustered that he had accidentally left it on his desk, partially obscured by some of his research papers. 

It had, of course, immediately been brought up at the next convocation meeting. It quickly devolved into a brawl as Emet_Selch physically fought the Speaker, and the material was spirited away by Nabriales who (by virtue of physically still being a toddler) was thusly protected from any harm by the others until he started reading it himself. Priscilla, between fits of laughter, recovered it from him and took off running. 

Hades -almost- managed to swear he wasn't going to talk to her if she didn't destroy it. Almost. Their elezen third had stepped in at that point to mitigate. The book was destroyed, and the trio went and spent the rest of the day assuaging the Architect's wounded pride. 

* * *

"Are you -happy- here?"

The Warrior hummed, blinking at Emet-Selch as she sat at the table. She swung her feet a few times, thinking it over before nodding slowly. 

"Am, yeah. Not as restless as I'd thought I'd be. Zenos keeps me pretty tired out on the fighting front. Source's doing alright. Hydaelyn's nearly done chewing through the residual Doom, and was convinced to go into a hibernation state in the event the Doom comes 'round again, instead of die. The complimentary star showers have nearly 'woken everyone to the Echo. Then, it'll just be a generation or so before everyone's souls are shuffled back together." Priscilla lifted both hands, counting off each item on her list across her fingers. "The Lock seems to be doing it's job at keeping Zodiark away. We're primed and prepped to either receive him or go out after him once everyone's done their business, like you and ruling Garlemald for the rest of a decade. Urianger's made so much progress in aetherology that it makes my brain hurt, and you've already told me you've figured out a way to split Altima out've me."

The astrologian smirked behind his tea at the eight fingers that were wiggled as he was mentioned. "All true, but art -thou- happy. Thy contentment must needs not be discerned by the state of others."

"'Course I am. I've got both've you, and no impending end of the world crisis on the horizon." A bare foot shifted to prod the elezen's knee, before the hyur grinned at him. "I've made tons of progress on controlling the Echo. Nobody but me's Tempered."

"I ask because it has to do with your time-traveling friend. Not the cat, the locket." The Architect set his coffee down and seated himself at the table. "All those efforts to find a happy ending, and you finally -found- one. I do not believe the journey will be possible for you."

"Wait, what? Why?" Priscilla blinked blankly at the ascian, straightening in her chair as he sighed. 

"It has to do with the way you perceive yourself. Polydegmon and I did not mix aetherically because he no longer saw himself as -me-. Your crystal cat friend did not run into this problem because there was no version of him on the First." A wave of a gloved hand produced the illusion of two cups, each filled with water. "He was able to travel with the Crystal Tower because he is an extension of it, and was partially crystallized for his travel. Polydegmon was able to because ascians are able to survive without a body. If we were to attempt to send your mind, body and soul back, the body is where the first issue comes into play. When time interacts with a body, it effects it."

Another wave, and one of the cups aged and cracked, and started to leak illusory water. "To travel forward in time would physically age you. To travel back, the inverse. Physically speaking. Not a terrible problem dependent upon the amount of time required, but there is an added layer here. The sheer amount of aether required to do so would also irrevocably damage you. G'raha Tia, yet again as an example, was physically partially crystallized as the Tower compensated for the physical damage he sustained." 

Priscilla squinted as the cracked illusory cup gained patches of petrified rock. "So you're saying that physically, bodies can't make the trip because they're fragile?"

"Just so." Urianger leaned forward, and focused. The illusion shifted into a tiny figurine of the Warrior. "Even factoring in thy gift from Hydaelyn which thusly prevents thy permanent death, t'would be incredibly painful, and we hath seen that thy blessing can be damaged."

"And so, physically speaking, the odds are that if you were to travel back your body would be destroyed." Hades frowned, before lifting his coffee and taking a sip. 

"Alright. What're the odds of me landing safely?" She looked between the two, resting her chin on her hands as she eyed the illusion. 

Pale gold eyes flicked over to meet a similar pair, before Urianger cleared his throat. "Two."

"... Two out of five?"

"Two percent." Emet-Selch set his cup down once more and turned it this way and that, toying with the handle. "Out of one hundred."

Priscilla mulled it over for a moment, before grimacing. "Okay, you've got me, I'll admit that's a shitty deal. But what about if we cut the physical body part out of it? Like how you and the other scions were pulled to the First?"

"Fifteen percent?" The astrologian looked down at his tea, mulling it over and shaking his head. "Nay, eleven. Factoring in the aetheric instability in the long run, such an attempt would be tantamount to deliberate, eventual suicide. Thy aether is strong, but barring the souls of the ascians, all require a tether to a physical body."

"And making me an ascian would mean killing the other fragments of me, so that I could absorb them right?" The Warrior drummed her fingers against the table idly, frowning.

"In part. Such would also require you to be raised to the position of Eschaton. Simply because -I- have named you such and the others accepted it doesn't actually mean that you have regained your status as an Amaurotine." The ascian grimaced, before slouching in his chair. "Exposure to Zodiark restored the memories of the sundered while tempering them, and adjusted their aether accordingly. Largely by blocking them from the cycle of rebirth."

Priscilla paused, brows furrowing further. "Wait, but ascian's -got- reborn. Lahabrea, Nabriales, Igeyorhm... Hydaelyn fished them out of the lifestream. And Igeyorhm's job was to sift ascian souls out of the lifestream, wasn't it?" 

"Yes and no. You essentially 'destroyed' the souls. Nothing is truly 'destroyed' however, simply broken down into base aether. The work that prevented them from returning to the lifestream was torn to shreds, which then allowed the ambient aether to return and thus reintroduced them to the cycle." Hades shifted to tuck an elbow onto the table, propping his chin up on his palm. "Such was an incredibly rare occurrence save for those who served the convocation until _you_ started knocking Convocation members down. And Ardbert."

"Look, Lahabrea got eaten by the Eye and Nabriales was beaten up by Moenbryda. The only one I'm singularly responsible for was Igeyorhm." The hyur grumped as she hunched at the table, weaving her fingers together. 

"-Please-, you were also present for Nabriales. If you had _missed_ you would have added me to that list, too." Emet-Selch huffed, and flapped his free hand at her. "Nevertheless, even sending simply the soul and the memories back to a previous time will not work."

"Alright. So if the soul thing what causes aetheric instability, why not just the memories then? What are the odds for that?" 

Urianger smiled slightly and leaned forward, before opening his mouth to answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Join us on discord! Lurk, chat, find a few folks to flounder around in ffxiv with.  
Best way to describe is somehow... Wholesome yet thirsty???  
On the other hand, though, I post links there whenever I post a new chapter, and everyone is supportive and I legit could not have done this without them.  
https://discord.gg/2a4bXhn


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